The Cry I Never Heard Still Haunts Me

In the distance beyond the smiles and giggles
Beyond that which use to be
I hear a soul crying, but I never hear the shrill that still chills
ME

Throughout the day, amidst the intellectual chats, over the booming hip hop music
In the shrills of the classical violin
In the soul of the sax
It is calling
ME

Through the morning air, evening coolness, midnight moon
The slow murmuring of an unsettled damaged spirit haunts
Through the wetness on my face, my racing heart, my labored breath, I covered my ears
For a swift minute and never heard what I should have heard
So I did
NOTHING
And it still haunts ME.

I can only Hold her
As I should have done when she silently called out to
ME
But I never heard
She is still
But I still
Hear
What I never heard before
And
It
Haunts
Me.

I am the survivor of domestic violence. As a result, my daughter is a survivor of incest. We are two of many victims of a man who is incapable of love or fatherhood.

Tribute to My Dad

Written Wednesday, April 8, 2009 at 12:31am










He's 87 now. I still sit in his lap & try to "dance with my father".


A friend wrote a poignant letter about the importance of the role of the father. He did not, by any means, slight the role of the mother. He merely spoke from his own experience, and the significant role he has within his family. I applaud his ability to recognize and celebrate his role. I, like many who responded to Carl, am a daddy's girl. I could have easily been the woman Carl warned brothers about. The one with “daddy issues”.

Early on, I sought the approval of my strict, hard working father. Instead I was fearful and unsettled by his strictness, but flattered by his admiration of my brain power. I was self-conscious of what he thought of me physically (we are twins), but ecstatic when he complimented me. Carl is so right in his perception. For women, our dad is our first boyfriend in a healthy way.

I use to write my father letters from MSU questioning his love, wondering if I disappointed him. He would write me saying, "Little one, daddy loves you." We did dance together, in the living room, and at parties. We were in fashion shows together. Somehow, I thought I was a mama's girl. You know my shopping buddy, my buffer, the one who loved me through it all. My mother was down for the cause!

I did not see what others saw-I was a "daddy's girl" all along. When I got it, when I really got it, I was attending a golf banquet with my parents (during my college years). My father introduced me to a colleague. The man just smiled, "So, you're Kellom's daughter, the one that goes to Michigan State." I remember being shocked that he talked about me. How stupidly blind I had been. That man stood in line with me to go to the Motown Revue. He sat through a Michael Jackson concert. He bought me sacks of White Castle hamburgers. He even put Dot & Etta shrimp in my locker for lunch a couple of times. He was the Bomb Diggity! And yes, we danced together.

Once, he said to me, "Barbara, don't look for me." I think that is the only time I would have to disagree with my father. If you have a good father role, you should at least look for that. I still remember being in high school at the mall with friends, when once again I was amazed to have to walk from the parking lot to the store entrance. My father always dropped his girls off at the door. He backed down to the sidewalk so that we would not step on the neighbors grass when entering or exiting the car. He opened every single door I walked through when I was with him.

I did follow my father's instruction literally. I did not look for him. I did not get anything like him. And it almost cost my daughter's life. But, she had a GREAT granddaddy. From that relationship, she has been able to pick up the pieces.

My father is 87 years old and in a nursing home. He cannot always remember my name, but he can still dance, and laugh. We still spar, and I try to hold my fist like he taught me. He is still proud of me. The father-daughter role cannot be taken lightly. It does indeed shape the relationships to come. And, every moment that I can "dance with my father again" is so very cherished.

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A Womb Does Not a Woman Make

The other day I received an email from a dear friend, my sister really. I warned her it would be in my next blog. I have included her comment.

"Had my yearly checkup last Friday and was told that my fibroid that's been in my body for the past two years had grown to the size of a grapefruit and it needs to come out....let's schedule a partial hysterectomy. Now, me and my doctor have already discussed my options about a year ago when the fibroid was much smaller. I elected to continue on as usual because I could deal with the heavy periods and cramps. But when he put it in such a matter-of-fact manner...I felt violated....:) Then he said you will be off work at least 4 weeks. I perked up and asked for an additional six weeks. He replied that he did not see a problem with that. I perked up a bit. As I was leaving the office I was in a fog, traumatized because I wasn't expecting that and the procedure has such finality (is there such a word?) to it. Part of my body will be permanently removed...no longer able to have children...not that I was going to...but I'm still vain enough to want that option in my old age:)

On the other hand, I will no longer have those awful periods and headaches and cramps that go along with it....on the other hand...it is the end of childbirth;and for some reason I am quite sad about that Barbara. What is that? ...Go figure the irony of my emotions."

I wrote: I now write a blog...this will be my next topic.

Our ovaries, womb, fallopian tubes are a part of our womanhood. We have allowed that to define us as woman. When I got mine in 2006, right after I completed my radiation for breast cancer, I was told by a female friend (who is much older than I) that I was no longer a woman. I looked at her with that smile that has made many think that I am easy going. I gave a slight giggle. I was thinking, "idiot"! You see my curves, my baby, these boobs, my way of being me like nobody else can be? I am a woman.

Yes, it is a loss. We mourn it, but unlike some, yours bore a beautiful piece of fruit. Ha! Less of a woman? Look at you. You are beautiful. Babies? You've been there, done that! The uterus is not THE definition of a wo-man. It is part of you. If you lose a limb, you are still hu-man. Look at what you are losing hys-terectomy. Give it back to HIM. You used it, it served you. You don't need it anymore.

A womb does not a woman make...You are a woman from your head to your manicured toe nails. Now, you will be a free woman like me. Forget the cramps, the tampons, napkins, Midol, bathroom trips...Welcome your freedom. Yes, you cannot have another baby, but a lot of folks with wombs couldn't have one. They are STILL women!

By the way, the woman that made the comment is petite, overtanned, her knees have four folds of skin, and her voice is raspy from smoking. She has had several cosmetic "adjustments" to make her beautiful and womanly. As she ages, she will have all of them, but they will be inside of folds and bends. Woman? Yeah, but what does it matter?

Embrace the free you! There are websites for women to discuss hysterectomies. Find one, and chime into the discussion or enjoy a laugh or cry!

Her response:
"Girl.....that was beautifully stated & I feel 100% better!!!! You are amazing with words Barbara. Love ya."

I love her, too!

-Written by Somebody's daughter, somebody's relative, a few folks friend, and a young woman's Mother

Life without D.R.A.M.A. = Dysfunctional Relationships Attracting Maximum Attention

For those of us who are Christians, we might remember that Adam and Eve goofed when instead of maintaining their relationship with God; they allowed the snake to drop in. That brings us right about where we are today. We allow snakes to slither in from all sources all dressed up, some in jeans, fur coats, bikes, limos, suits, Louis Vuitton, Dolce & Gabbana, Kmart’s private brand, or flip flops. Man, woman, boy or girl, afroed, weaved, blonde, blue-eyed, green eyes, blind eyes, it is still a slithering snake.

The snaking is cunning, charming and sucks you right into their dysfunctional relationship to attract the maximum attention possible. Poor Adam got so confused, he didn’t blame the snake. So, who did he blame? His rib---Eve. The relationship would not have gone sour if Adam and Eve had not lost focus of the relationship they were suppose to have with God. The obedience and trust they were to have in God, got displaced on a snake. Now, in modern day one of my girls would say, “Let him slither away with the snake….” But, in this case the snake got to his soul mate first. So, Adam was blindsided, caught up in the emotion, brought into the middle of a conversation his mate had with a snake. We know who the snake represented. So, Adam (who supposedly had his own mind), followed the snake (via Eve). He was enticed, and charmed. She spun Adam’s head around like a spinning top. He tasted the fruit-he loved the fruit. He got caught with the worm in his mouth. What happened next is the DRAMA. Blaming Eve, he spewed unkind, thoughtless and disrespect; and both were ashamed before God because they were not focused on the real relationship.

Adam should have walked away. The snake caught Eve in the Garden of Eden, alone. Adam already had his instruction. Eve knew better, but…that snake caught her on the wrong day! So, Adam succumbed and lowered himself. Eve succumbed and lowered herself. The snake? Got belly duty for life! However, it is still slithering in and out of lives, friendships, relationships, and finances. Happy to mess up, cause a scene, maybe call in more snakes for back up. One thing that is consistent about the snake, it recoils after the kill-snickering from the uproar it caused. So guess who’s left?

We are so much larger than the snake physically, yet we are so weak to its confusion, charm, and deception. Instinctively, we know what is wrong, because Christian or not we are born with a conscious unless we have a psychological deficit. That’s another day. We can smell the stench of drama brewing. Some folks are drama magnets. It is up to the rest of us to determine that we do not want to be in the drama stew. We don’t know what or who is down there in that pot of drama. And folks that readily walk into it, and call other people into it are the snakes in this story. Drama is not drama without an audience. Lots of noise, clapping, tongues wagging, and stupid comments-then the snake slithers to the next victim.

You cannot hide evil, a liar, or a coward. They will all come to surface. But, don’t get confused about who’s who---do a background check on the snake. Biblically, it is in Proverbs 23:7, "For as he thinks within himself, so he is." Our actions show the true content in our hearts. However, before we grab a fig leaf to hide ourselves, and start pointing, turn to the snake…s/he is getting away. The snake will let you take it in and as the song said, “…shut up…you knew I was a snake before you took me in!” A boa constrictor caresses you tightly before the kill. Wherever there’s drama, there’s the snake.

by Somebody's daughter, a few folks friend, and a Mother of a young woman.

Psalm 52: “…Why do you boast in evil, O mighty man? Your tongue devises destruction, like a sharp razor, working deceitfully. You love evil more than good, lying rather than speaking righteousness. Selah you love all devouring words, you deceitful tongue.”

Have We Taught Our Young People to be Supportive and Celebrate Each Others Success? By Barbara K.

I only gave birth to one child, but I claim many. They are uniquely talented, intelligent and driven individuals. Recently, I had the great joy of hanging out with two of them (one of them my own daughter, the other, my son of another mother-John), as we attended the performance of another talent—Monica Blaire.


Brittni & Blaire (aka Monica Blaire-performer extraordinaire) Christmas circa 1994

She is an extraordinary talent, with a broad music appeal. Jazz, hip-hop, ballad, gospel, or your pleasure, Ms. Monica Blaire can bring it to the table and spoon feed your soul. Her voice is magical, and she is truly high energy and magnetic on stage. Needless to say, I enjoy her music. More importantly, she is a member of our Detroit community.

I am personally aware of so many young people who are attempting to make a difference, deliver a message, change this society, uplift mankind, and carry out a legacy. When I am able, I try to be where ever I am invited to lend my support. I think that is customary for my generation. We support our young people. We want them to flourish.

In my mind, every event that a young adult hosts, performs in, chairs, or is involved in should be overflowing with other young people. Yet, it is seldom the case. Oh, a few of the “girls” or the “boys” will stop by, but I don’t see them rallying to support one another. Why? Is it jealousy or apathy? And please, they are not too busy. Young people are out in droves at the bars, major social events, the malls, and major conferences. They do what they want to do, and go where they want to go.



Brittni (child advocate & speaker) & John Marsh (young sports writer) @ her keynote presentation.

So, it made me think. As older adults, do we support each other? Do we go to events because they are high profile, “who’s who”, or do we go where we are needed? Are we really supporting causes or the appearance? I see talented young people pleading to sell a CD, garner support of charity, gain community support, and often the results are a tug of war of the same adults. Well, as I often say, “Mama is tired.” This might not be clear to young people yet. But, if they don’t start supporting each other, the support is not going to be there for them. You have got to reach beyond your circle, because you will need them to return the favor.

This generation of college graduates represents the new adults. They aren’t children anymore, waiting to receive an allowance to buy a CD, go to a concert, or be driven to an event. I would like to think graduation and the wedding will be the last major events where our support has significance. Everything else that this group of young adults involve themselves in should be well supported by their peers! They should be supporting each other politically, socially, economically, and psychologically. Because --“mama is tired.”

To the young people: You have each other. You have buying power. You have a voice. You are intelligent. It is time for you to step up and take charge. Attend your friends, associates, and acquaintances functions. Start building your own support network. Whatever anyone over 40 does for the under 30 group, should be gravy. We should be seat fillers on Oscar night, not the whole audience. I hope we have not been a superficial example of support for you. I hope you see us with our sleeves rolled up, attending things that aren’t always A-list. I hope you see us running camps, serving soup, handing a plate to a homeless person, delivering a good meal to a sick friend, working the campaign of an underdog, supporting a local artist, and just being there.

Have we taught you how to support each other? Have we taught you how to be a part of a team, and not always the leader? Do you know how to pool your resources, and strengthen your presence by joining forces? Or do you think it’s all about you? I hope we have taught you the true meaning of community. Have you ever stopped to think what would happen if you banded together to support each other? The Metro-Detroit African-American community is not even six degrees of separation. It’s only three. Too close to isolate. You need each other to thrive. And you can thrive with mutual support. Why should only a few talented souls prosper, when each one of you can do it?

I hope we have taught you to go hear the young minister, performer, speaker, and buy the young author’s book. I hope you know that even eagles congregate from time to time. Yes, we wanted you to soar, but don’t forget to hold someone’s hand. You all need each other. ‘Cause baby, the collective mamas and daddys are tired! We will not, and do not want to stop supporting you! But, we have passed the torch. We just want to sit back and clap for you!!! Like I did at the Monica Blaire experiment! Well, I did a little more than clap.



Jonathan Edward Barlow announcing his bid for Detroit City Council 2009