...silence...

silence

Sitting here in the comfort of silence.

Silence in heart, mind, body and soul.

Sitting here in the comfort of silence,

That I now sadly admit, I had been running from for so long.

Because in silence is when all the truth is seen and heard.

In silence all the evidence is justified and no stone is left unturned.

In this silence, my silence, in the silence of me,

I know realize,

How blind and passive I have grown to be.

How I have conditioned myself to your lies,

Conditioned myself to your limited love and affection.

Convincing myself that your occasional “every now and again” love came with messages in between the lines and it was my job to detect them.

I was given the job to see and read more into things that normally show no promise.

I was given the gift to overlook your constant infamous broken promises.

For you, I reprogrammed myself.

Reprogrammed myself to fit your lifestyle and downsized myself to fit into your life.

My once down is now up, my wrong is now right.  

My heart once healthy, plump with blood and faith and stained red,

Now is ice cold, frozen bitten, un-noticeable due to the liver spot of white.

Sitting here in the comfort of silence.

Silence in heart, mind, body and soul.

Sitting here in the comfort of silence,

That I now sadly admit, I had been running from for so long.

Because in silence is when all the truth is seen and heard.

In silence all the evidence is justified and no stone is left unturned.

In this silence, I can hear your voice.

Your voice, which has voiced so many predictable statements.

“It’s not what it looks like. You know me better than that. “

My concerns morphed into untrue allegations, you prided yourself on replacing them.

In silence, I hear my questions, insecurity and self doubt.

Asking myself if it’s all worth it, all the tears I have cried, the millions I dread to count.

Is it my entire fault, should I have never let you get so comfortable and steady?

I should have intervened with the first warning sign and stand my ground.  I should have been ready.

All of this bi-polar and schizophrenia in my living and breathing space is my punishment,

Punishment for me knowing better.

Knowing better than to allow, continue, over look, Kanye shrug, ignore and denounce such unacceptable behavior.

Not just in you because I admit I have been more than accessory to such hate crime,

I stay disappointed with the woman in the mirror,

Knowing that her over cried, over stressed, under loved, and under cared face is mine.

What’s my defense you ask? Where’s my evidence?

My broken heart, my battered self esteem, my frail nerves, my inability to stop wrong and let go when it’s time….is that enough to convince?

Sitting here in the comfort of silence.

Silence in heart, mind, body and soul.

Sitting here in the comfort of silence,

That I now sadly admit, I had been running from for so long.

Because in silence is when all the truth is seen and heard.

In silence all the evidence is justified and no stone is left unturned.

This silence is nothing to play with,

Only the strong survive.

Only the strong survive, the honesty, the cruelty. The silence voices the oppressed and heals the blind.

Those voices, that was once loud and strong. Being my director to what was allowed and not allowed and what was right and wrong.

Those voices, I‘ve suppressed only to hear your voice which was once so very weak and meek. It has drained all my energy, love, and strength. How can I ignore something so consistent when I have grown so weak?

….silent….silent….silent….

But just like you have in some way gained strength and security into your actions and how they have involuntarily become more regular and allowed…my voice has the same ability.

My voice is stronger than yours. My words stand on more facts and foundation.

My voice states the truth, the truth to me, to you, to this, to that, to him, to her. My voice says enough for us all to make a self re-evaluation.

My voice that has been broken but never forgotten. My voice that doesn’t tell me what to do, but instead yells it to catch my attention.

My voice, being the main ring leader to all of my emotions and heart, body, soul and minds intervention.

The intervention for me.

In silence, they speak the loudest.

I can hear my heart growing weak due to constantly being broken.

I can hear the tears roll down on the path of my face it has so ruthlessly stolen.

I can feel my mind overheated with unanswered questions that I stay assuming and trying to answer myself.

I can hear my soul falling slowly but steady into a black hole, being suppressed to make room for this one that I have allowed you to create for me. As a reminder, my soul gets stored away on a shelf.

I hear it all and it’s the saddest song I’ve ever heard. It’s the saddest scene I’ve seen played out. It’s doing beyond the most and in silence I vow I want and am getting out.

In silence, I regained my pride.

I regained my self-worth, my self-respect, my self-love.

In silence, I have come to understand the differences in you and me.

The bad in you and the good in me.

In silence, I have made more promises to myself that I know will be kept.

In silence, I have found that strong woman you take it all step by step.

In silence, I have found the thing I have been searching for the whole time.

The acceptance and love within and for myself.

You are no longer needed. Your theories and methods are no longer kept.

Sitting here in the comfort of silence.

Silence in heart, mind, body and soul.

Sitting here in the comfort of silence,

That I now sadly admit, I had been running from for so long.

Because in silence is when all the truth is seen and heard.

In silence all the evidence is justified and no stone is left unturned.

                                                                                                           xoxo,
@BMynroe

RaChelle-Denise McKinney

Surviving The World Of Bullying: My Testimony

               There is a universal topic that seems to be holding the magazine headlines hostage, not to mention the conversation piece that a lot of people can’t really grasp…B-U-L-L-Y-I-N-G!

               

                 I was in the supermarket in my normal “running errands-not really trying to see or talk to anyone-please shut your loud ass child up-I am starting to get a headache” wear: An oversized black sweatshirt, complimented by one of ex boyfriends 2 sizes too big black sweats. I added flair by hiding behind my black out “Jackie-O” shades yet I was holding my black on black Dereon bag like a posh and up class lady. My MO.

                I was BEYOND annoyed at the lady in front of me. I could have SWORN the sign said “10 items or less”, just to make sure, I double checked…YEP “10 items or less”! Yet here is this lady with the food pyramid 3X in front of me! RUDE! And all I came in to get was a nice little fruit salad bowl to snack on….so this is what I get for trying to be healthy? As I was rolling my eyes in slow motion, my eyes fixated on the magazine rack. Like I confessed in my intro blog, I am a magazine junkie. TINY CONFESSION: I love to see the front covers, who are on them, the outfit and the makeup layout. I LIVE FOR THAT!

                Normally I would skim thro “XXL” or “InStyle” or the rumor magazine “Life & Style”…yet my attention was yielded when I caught “People’s” magazine headline and the front cover layout: “Bullying Leading to Suicide” and on the cover were three pictures of youthful teenagers, full of promise. My heart broke a little in the most sensitive area, not because it is indeed such a tragic story and epidemic that is gripping the nation but because of my own personal experience of being involuntarily put into the world of “bullying”.

                I normally don’t talk about such ordeal because I taught myself a reminder in order to deal with such irrelevance of bullying: “Everything, good or bad, happens for a reason. One may not realize or see such reason, it may take years, but it all happens in order for all the dots to connect and show such a beautiful picture.”

                I remember countless days of elementary school bullying. (Yes, my bullying started early and lasted into high school, so I KNOW what I am talking about.) Unlike “normal” kids I dreaded recess. Recess for me was a daily and constant reminder that I was “different”, that I wasn’t “cool”, that I didn’t meet the qualifications to hang out on the monkey bars with the “pretty girls”. My “area” was the side walk at the very end of the school yard.

                You see, every since I was old enough to have play dates with other kids, I caught on to how “different” I looked, how “different” I acted. If I wasn’t quick enough to catch on, I was told by these “playdates”.

 LITTLE GIRL #1: “Why you so tall? You taller than the boys!”  LITTLE GIRL #2: “Yeah, you’re a GIANT! Like that big green man on the can of beans!” LITTLE GIRL #1: “I bet she is a boy! A big ugly gay fat boy!” LITTLE GIRL #2: “She is fat! I know what we are going to call you, ‘Chelly Belly’!”  END SCENE.

                I was the tallest kindergartener in my class, a DEFINITE target for bullying. People and MOSTLY children, tear down what is different, even something you can’t control…like my height. To add more suggestions on the list of what people could bullying me about, I was the chubbiest of all the girls. I was NEVER the petite little girl who weighed 20 pounds soaking wet, NEVER! I ate my vegetables as a kid.

                But the one thing that to this day astounds me, is that I was constantly picked on not because I was built different or that my mama made sure I matched everything, from head to toe, *eye roll* but it was because I was smart and because I was quiet and shy.  *CRICKETS*…*SILENCE*…*CONFUSED LOOK*.  Maybe if I say it again it will make sense, “I was bullied because I was smart and shy”….NOPE…I still don’t get it.

                I never talked or fought back. I never came back with a snappy comment to the taunts ‘Chelly Belly” and my favorite ‘Jolly Green Giant” (I used to hide any clothing that had green in it) and the bullying continued throughout middle school. Middle school had to be the beginning of the worst.

                Middle school was when kids, mainly girls, began to “smell themselves”. Puberty was almost their ally with the growing of boobs and booty. NOT FOR ME! I grew taller, I got wider and my boobs seemed to literally grow over night. My training bra didn’t last a week, poor thing, and kids noticed.

 I began to believe the “taunts”, I began to hate myself. In my mind I was thinking, “If everyone is so annoyed and disgusted by me than something is wrong with ME. Why can’t I be skinny and pretty and fit nice clothes like everyone else? Why do I have to be me?” I would avoid mirrors and anything reflective because I didn’t want to be reminded as to why everyone hated me so much.

I and girlfriends was a definite NEGATIVE! I learned at a very young age that me and females just really don’t and never have “CLICKED” (I can’t even begin to tell you the many failed “friendships” I had, a MESS.) And NO, it wasn’t because I was a lesbian (heard that daily) and NO it wasn’t because I was a tomboy (dressed like one to avoid actually seeing my body, my way of hiding).

  ***QUICK SHOUTOUT to the ladies who looked past the covering and have shown me that all females are NOT the same, don’t know where I would be without ya’ll!  Love ya’ll bytches to DEATH!!!***

CHECK THIS OUT: It was because I didn’t follow the “rules” of the “clique”. I BROKE THE RULES.  BIG NO-NO!

PRETEEN GIRL #1: “Chelle, why didn’t you call me back last night?” ME: “I was doing my homework.”  PRETEEN GIRL #1: “So since you better than everyone else and can’t talk to us on 3 way, that means you gon’ let us copy your homework right?” ME: O_O “Uh…no.” END SCENE

I didn’t know it then but my shyness and my quietness intimidated people. I later learned, damn near 10 years later,  that people thought I thought that I was better than them. I wasn’t black, I was a white girl!  They said I was “stuck up”. HOW THE HELL IS SOMEONE STUCK UP WHO WEARS BAGGY CLOTHES?!?! IDIOTS!

I had things wrote about me on bathroom walls, I had explicit and demeaning notes stuffed into my locker(BIGFOOT IS AMONG US!!) I got things thrown at and poured on me (mostly chalk and chalk board erasers) , I had nasty rumors spread about me (and I would always be the last to know) I have been jumped (because her cousin told her sister that his brother heard his friend who happens to be her boyfriend, was cheating on her with me), I have been talked about so badly in public till the point I have busted out into tears,(those who know me now, know that I don’t do the whole *crying* thing, it’s called eyeliner people)  I have had my truck egged, I have had my truck keyed, I have had my license plate ripped off (I still don’t understand that one, doesn’t that take time and effort?), etc.

So believe me when I say, I KNOW the pain and abuse that is endeared when one is bullied, bullied and taunted because you are different, because you don’t fit the status quo that others have put out for you to meet. Bullied because you dare to be different, not even different because you dare to be YOURSELF! I know the self-hatred that comes with being reminded everyday that you are not like “them”, why can’t you be like “them”, life would be so much better if you were like “them” and because you’re not like “them” your life is a living hell, so you should just die….(been there).

Kids, to me, are the most cruel and vicious creatures when it comes to exiling someone for whatever bullshit reason. Kids don’t understand the power and existence of karma. Kids don’t understand the power and progress of evolution. Kids don’t understand that T.V. is make believe, it’s something that is CONTROLLED by others, YET, they damn near break their neck trying to portray what they see on television.

QUESTION: Why would anyone, male or female, black or white, young or old, want to be and live life like they see on television? Why do you want to put yourself in someone else’s funky-ass, worn-out, oh-so-last season shoes? Why are you putting yourself on the path of “following” and “pleasing others”? What is the purpose? Does one hate and think less of themselves THAT much?  

I have never understood that and my punishment for such was being bullied.

I am not saying that I am not influenced by TV, music, fashion, etc. OF COURSE I AM! I am a breathing and walking sponge. I am journalist for Gods sake, it’s my job to be all about the NOW.  But you see…I am INFLUENCED by it, I don’t FOLLOW it! MY life, MY journey, all under MY control, so why beat me down for enjoying what I have been given, MY LIFE!

I know that this blog post is not going be nominated for a Pulitzer and that it won’t be on Wendy Williams “Hot Topics” (How U Doing? *Love Her!!!*) but it’s my testimony. My testimony that individuality is worth fighting for, it’s worth standing up for. Assimilation is NOT the answer, it’s the fucking problem.  

Those who assimilate are cowards. Those you beat and tear down the “loners” are weak. Those who go about the “rules” of the status quo are fucking boring, those who run in the “clique” are all predictable, those you stay quiet and never voice their individuality are committing slow suicide, those who point of the “difference” have no life, and those who keep out the “unique” ones out, will never experience evolution.   Now…why is that “cool” again???? *In my Katt Williams voice and stance: “Don’t worry…I’ll wait."

  xoxo,

@BMynroe
RaChelle-Denise McKinney

               

It's Up To You....Love Me or Hate Me

They say that you can NEVER get a second chance to make a great first impression. So let me put my thinking cap on and try my damnest to pull out some tricks to “razzle-dazzle” (business nickname…long story and another time and blog) you.  Hmm....I am more of a "do-er” than a "talker".  So many "bloggers" are guilty of "talking the talk" yet failing to "walk the walk". Too bad blogs don’t come with its own camera crew and production team because I would be able to SHOW you better than I can tell you, but that doesn’t mean I can’t try ;-)

I would describe myself as a girl who lives life as though she has been in the spotlight for years and is a celebrity in her own “Hollywood”.  I don’t need a fan base over a million people or my face plastered over gossip magazines (which happen to be one of my most expensive guilty pleasures) discussing who I am “allegedly” dating (there aren’t enough magazine layouts in the world) and snapshots of my “casual wear” (my style ranges from Hobo , Valley Girl, or New Yorkie…it depends what I am feeling that day, ya know? ).

  I live like that already, I have been for a while and always will. I walk and live life with Kayne West’s  “Flashing Lights” playing as my background music on repeat. I don’t lean on people’s approval to determine if I am hot or not, class or trash, bitch or lady, etc. It really doesn’t matter and honestly…never will.  It’s a free country and my President is Black, so EVERYONE is entitled to their opinion and I hold no position to make you change it…just like I hold no position to sit down and listen and take notes to everyone’s critique of me. O_O…you’re joking right.

                Let’s see…I am single, free to mingle but refuse to dangle, meaning just because I am single does not label me as “available”. That seems to get lost in translation. You see…I am SINGLE not AVAILABLE and TAKING APPLICATIONS! That position has already been filled and taken by yours truly.

                You see…I understand I am a complicated woman and that I come with many angles, departments and closets, I am woman enough to admit that. And due to such self-discovery and realization I don’t see the point or the time in trying to prove to someone that I am capable of loving and understanding. I don’t understand the concept of making someone do what they are CLEARLY not capable of doing. When did that become what the kool kids are doing these days? Explain that to me….

                While someone, somewhere comes up with some explanation to such buffoonery, I will stay in my lane and have a very exciting and enticing threesome with my favorite ladies: Me, Myself and I ;) 

Now, don’t think that I am just another bitter “young black female who suppresses her fears of love due to her upbringing, seeing the extreme complications between her parents that progressed to slowly scarring her faith and hope in love”….trust me I have read enough psychology articles then I care to admit. I will admit, yes, I am a product of my conditions, I am human and as being human I have been conditioned but just because I have been conditioned does not mean I have not evolved. STAY WITH ME…I KNOW IT MAY GET KINDA “WORDY”, THAT’S THAT COLLEGE EDUCATION SEEPING OUT.

 I didn’t take the disadvantages and unfortunates that popped in and out my life and use them as “excuses”, for example, “I am a bitch because I don’t want to be taken advantage of like when I was younger,”. No. “I have the tendency to be aggressive because some people have a harder time understanding how I operate,” …see how much better that sounded?

Like I confessed before, I am a very complicated young lady and according to my mama, yes mama, “mom” has always been so cold and informal to me, “mama” has more of a warmth and praise to it, doesn’t it…anyways, where was I...*rewinding*…Mama tells me “Baby, you meaner than a yard dog.” O_O yea…she’s country.  And like I said before, I was conditioned.

Tiny Confession: In school, I was bullied and teased constantly. I was never pretty enough. I was never thin enough. I was never petite enough. I was never light enough. I was never “big-bootyied” enough.  I was never down enough. I was never popular enough. I was never stylish enough. I was never cool enough, according to the cool kids in school. Hmm….wonder where THEY are now? You will find them at your local supermarket during food stamp week with at least 3 kids in tow, all have different daddies and their monthly stop at the local supermarket is their much anticipated field trip. It’s brightens their lives.  I know it’s harsh to say and really bitchy but it’s the truth. That is what the “cool kids” are doing these days. So it’s fair to say I am a loner and marches to the beat of my own drum. I have never been “cool”. LOL

Back to me, I am a tall lady, 5’11 I say,  but according to shorter ex boyfriends, I am at least 6 feet, huge REAL GOD GIVEN boobs, (36 G, *sigh* Yes, they make bras in G size *eye roll*) and I am a size 10-12 (NOPE! No shame in being a double digit girl) so you do the math and size the proportions (36-31-42) and built me together in your mind. I swear it will be so much fun!!! ;-) So yes, I am a “Glamazon”: glamorous Amazon. And the crazy thing is…I have the “Jessica Rabbit” syndrome. I am attracted and go for shorter guys who have an insane and charming sense of humor. Like She said, “If you can make a girl laugh, you can make her do anything.”- Marilyn Monroe

I am a book judged by the cover EVERYTIME and I have come to accept that, which is why I don’t really hang myself about “first impressions”. Why would I wreck my brain trying to come off a certain way to someone when as SOON as they see me, they assume they know my whole life’s story? Kinda irrelevant don’t you think? I see such as a curse and a blessing.

For instance, my two VERY best friend, confessed so calmly to me that they didn’t like me when they first saw me. O_O ??? I had to investigate more. “Why?” I asked looking a little hurt, I mean come on, my BFF’s Von (4 yrs) and Zack (9 yrs) just said they didn’t like me when we first met. These people are like my family…WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DIDN’T LIKE ME? Von explained it the best way she could while we were battling over the vanity mirror in our apartment. She was flat ironing her hair and I was retouching my makeup. “Well…when I first saw you, all I saw was hair and boobs.  Really big boobs.” I looked down to investigate my bosom and cupped them for reassurance on their size, yep still “really big boobs”. She continued, “And I remember you were flipping your hair every chance you got. And I was like…’What black girl whips her hair like that? F**k she think she is?’” Needless to say…I was a little taken back but she brought me back to life. “But…after realizing you were my roommate and getting to know you and they way you are,  you are one of the best people I know and I love you so much. And plus, I am happy you’re my BFF, you fucking beautiful” =D MISSION ACCOMPLISHED!

So you see lovies, I don’t try to get people to like me, I don’t put on a show for people, I am not fake, I am not “regular”…I am ME! My BFF’s weren’t even impressed with my first impressions that I subconsciously gave.  They thought I was,  what’s the word, “too much”? And like them, a lesson is always to be learned with me. I am educational baby, you learn to love me or hate me a little more each  day. The decision is yours. ;-) 

  xoxo,
@BMynroe
RaChelle-Denise McKinney