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Day 4 – So Okay Maybe…

January 23, 2012

So where was I? Plan of Action – Destiny of Gratitude.

Okay so ish isn’t THAT BAD. Aunty Oprah would tell me off for not being grateful that I am working, I do have a job – even if it’s not precisely in the area in which I studied extensively for…

…PAUSE: Soul do I by any chance need to explain Aunty Oprah? Or is it obvious from my constant reference that I’m by-forcing her into my family by way of deluded super-fan?

My infatuation (I DID NOT AND DID NEVER SAY GIRL CRUSH…SHOW SOME RESPECT!) with Aunty Oprah began in the 90s. When it went…

…back when I was in college and part-timed in a hairdressers we used to flick between Sky Living and the music channels to get our daily dose of Black choones and crazy Americans airin out their dutty stinkin’ laundry for us to salivate over.

Then late ‘9o’s I stopped speaking to Aunty Oprah because she started getting all sensible and grown up and only talking to rich white ladies who cried all the damn time. I thought she hated me.

But then she explained, *Ebony’s Aunty Oprah Voice*: ‘no young Niece, I was brought to this world to be the most powerful woman in the world, and cos you know us BLACK WOMEN SUFFER SO MUCH MORE than any other woman in the whole wide world I had to change it up a bit, nudge-nudge-wink-wink..uh-huh you know how it is, Black and Yellow, Black and Yellow, Black and Yellow.’  IT’S TRUE…SHE DID!

…And so I forgave her, and then,  just as I was about to re-add her to my schedule… British Land took my Aunty Oprah away from me. No longer was she on our screens. And Youtube wasn’t invented – YEAH THERE WAS TIME BEFORE YOUTUBE.

Angry I didn’t have a Green card, I twiddled my thumbs and prayed every night for years on end for British land to bring my Aunty Oprah back. Then, one day the TV God’s heard my prayers, and she was returned to us, and I was all older, and stressed, and depressed and wallowing in the dark, and  Aunty Oprah started talking about being positive, Paying it ForwardThe Gratitude Journal , how to keep your colon clean…and the older I started to listen and clap and cry along with the rich white ladies.

Thankyou Soul for listening. Back to my life.

So I could give thanks that I’m an Independent Woman. I moved out of my mother’s house four years ago. But I now live in a council flat, and my estate is a health risk…

…all inclusive with the rent.  My friends we’ve discussed and will discuss further. My Family, well…

So I’m in my room thinking things haven’t turned out how they were supposed to. Or maybe they did. Maybe…well today I was on my way home from work, and it came to me that the reason why I don’t have it all now is because I never thought I would have it.
Aunty Oprah told us about the power of  The Secret and…Hold on, one minute, I have to change the subject…

While I am writing in you Soul, I have the telly on 106 and Park – (can I just say I love Terrence with his five year old self) anyway, the usual dunno what to call it anymore music is on and as per usual most of the videos are filled with half naked hot chicks. Light skin hot chicks, White hot chicks, One afro’d light-skinned hot chick and the rest of the hot chicks are silky headed and no darker than Tropicana Tan shade 2 or however they grade their shades. I mean, ok, I have been told I go on about this stuff waaay too much…

…that I’m a tad too Fist in the airish, I dunno maybe I expect too much from the Backbones of my society. But how am I supposed to progress if they won’t? Am I making sense?

Ok. I have an issue. All these videos, all these artistes who if they one day happened to come down off their celebrity perch and decided they’d want to marry me, I’d agree, I’d date them, and marry them and all that, but it would never happen, no not because it’s impossible to believe that one day Andre 3000 might just happen to walk through my estate and Romeo and Juliette me at my balcony …but more because none of those artistes who’d I’d be up for saying ‘I do’ to, love me, because I never see me in a video. Do you get me?

There are never any petite, shapely, dark-skinned, cute, natural haired, thick lipped, square button nosed, girl in any one of these videos which are constantly forced down our eyes. And I don’t mean as the booty shakin’ sexy chick, I mean as the lead, Girl Who Gets it Everything and the Rapper Prize Girl, the throw it in the bag chick…

No wonder I can’t progress. No one loves me. Only old white men who fantasise about my animalistic aggressiveness, or the conscious rappers who’re so conscious that because of their determination to stay true to the truth don’t make any money, so are not heard by the right people…


Even myself. I mean there’s only so much ‘Fight The Power’ you can listen to when you have a tune which although disrespects women, tricks you into screaming the chorus like, yes you are a bitch who can’t wait to get effed by the rapper and his homies all because the track has a kicking beat which throws you onto the dance floor the minute you hear just a millisecond of the tune.

See, love that choone! Love it!

SADDENED. GOODNIGHT.

Ebs xxx

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From → The Soul Pages

One Comment
  1. Dominique riley permalink

    Love it…

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