Writing in Style

It’s funny how all writers have certain writing quirks about themselves. We all have little things we do that makes us unique. For the most part, when it comes down to penning our stories, it seems like the more relaxed we are, the better.

I’m just going to tell you, I can’t write when I’m dressed up. The creativity will not flow. πŸ‘ŽπŸΎ

I know of one writer who always wears her furry little hat whenever she writes. Another writer I know writes with a quilted blanket wrapped around her no matter the season or the time of the day. I know of several writers who like to write in their night gowns or pajamas.

Now that’s what I call writing in style. 😏

For me, the only thing I’ve noticed about myself whenever I write is that I have to wear my animal house shoes. They give me such a cozy feeling when I write and I love how they fit so snuggly on my feet. My feet are naturally cold to the touch and these babies keep my feet nice and warm. I’ve had these for almost five years now and they are still holding up pretty good.

It’s funny how whenever I’m about to write, I’ll automatically put them on. It comes with the territory I guess. I don’t know what I’m going to do when these tear up on me. I think I can get two more years out of them. Whatchu think? πŸ§πŸ€”πŸ§

Go on and get you a pair. You know you want to. They are as awesome as they look! πŸ‘€πŸ‘ŒπŸΎπŸ€—

Until next time…

Sad, But True

Since my blog post on the stereotype Jezebel, I had some readers express disbelief that some Black women actually laid up with White men who hold such warped views. Unsettling as it is, it’s true. Sad, but true.

Note: Not all White men share this warped view.

Warning ⚠: Strong opinions to follow.

I’ve worked with some Black women who allowed themselves to be discussed provocatively amongst certain White men who hold such views. Why? Because they craved their approval and acceptance due to low self-esteem. I know of a few who were terminated by the very same White man they allowed themselves to be bedded by or sexually used in other ways. 😩

This Black woman has had more than her fair share of White men who have tried but failed miserably to have a “Jezebel” experience with me. Some can act like straight fools when you turn them down. Don’t let me have my long hair hanging down and pressed straight as I’m shooing them out of my face. The audacity of me! Can someone say, conniption fit? πŸ’πŸΎβ€β™€οΈπŸ’†πŸΎβ€β™€οΈπŸ’…πŸΎ

How dare I, a Black woman, reject a warped White man’s advances. Man, bye! πŸ˜‚πŸ‘‹πŸΎ

It’s been said that I shouldn’t feel sorry for these Black women because it’s not the norm, but I can’t help but to. You see, these women have low self-esteem issues, lack self-respect and have very little self-love. When you take all that into consideration, how can you not feel sorry for them? Besides all that, they are still a part of the Black community.

Until next time…

Jezebel

I’ve been on the fence about whether or not I should discuss the Jezebel stereotype, but I feel like I must even though it’s explicit in nature. I love blogging about writing and books, but as a Black woman, I also like to blog about Black history facts and the Black experience.

Warning ⚠: Some images may be disturbing.

When it comes to the Jezebel stereotype, the depths of this stereotype is rooted in both racism and sexual violence. To make a long history lesson short, the Jezebel stereotype was created by White men to justify their raping of Black women. In other words, this stereotype claims that Black women are promiscuous and hypersexual so they can’t be raped.

Many today still see Black women as promiscuous, “easy” and “wild” when it comes down to sex. I can remember one of my White professors sharing stories of other White men who admitted that they envied their forefathers. What exactly were they envying? The raping of Black women and having multiple Black women as bed wenches. How disturbing, deviant and sad.

What’s even sadder is the unfortunate fact that some Black women have allowed themselves to be bedded by some of these White men who believe in or base their opinions of Black women off of the Jezebel stereotype.

I can tell you the few Black women who allowed themselves to be made into a fool by some of these White men definitely had low self-esteem. Sadly, they also craved the approval, acceptance and attention of White men. How tragic, desperate and unfortunate.

As a Black woman, I can spot them a mile away before they even try to come in my face when I’m dressed up and out on the town. Some of them walk around as if they are God’s greatest gift and that I should fall all over them or at their feet. Anita aka BookingAnita will NOT stoop to such a low level.

I wish that there was a way to do away with this Jezebel stereotype, but unfortunately, it will always exist. Just know that the majority of Black women back then and now aren’t like that.

If you think I’m hitting you with some hard-hitting Black history facts now, you just wait until next month, Black History month.

Until next time…

Muffin Tops. SMH…

Good Evening! I hope everyone is doing well. I haven’t made a random post in a while, but since some of my family and friends are “on me” about a particular habit of mine, I thought I’d blog about it. They want to see if anyone else will be annoyed by this “habit” of mine. 😩

Let me start off by saying I can’t help it. This writer and blogger has her quirks and I’m not afraid to admit it.

Whenever this writer / blogger eats muffins, I only eat the top part of the muffin. Yes, I only eat the muffin top and throw the rest away. I’ve always done that because to me, the bottom part of the muffin is dry and not that sweet. πŸ€·πŸΎβ€β™€οΈπŸ’†πŸΎβ€β™€οΈ

Whenever I’m about to eat a muffin around certain family or friends, they’ll blurt out, “Nita don’t you do it. Don’t you dare do it.”, but I have to do it. I don’t like the bottoms of muffins. πŸ˜­πŸ˜‚πŸ˜­

The muffin top is the best part of the muffin in my opinion and it’s the only part of the muffin I will eat. If that annoys you, I’m sorry. 😲 If you are ever around me when I’m eating a muffin, look away because there’s a pretty good chance it’ll look a lot like this when I’m done. πŸ™ƒ

Until next time…

Donyale Luna (Updated)

I was reading an article on the late Donyale Luna and because I was taken aback by it, I decided to blog about it.

Donyale Luna, born Peggy Ann Freeman, is largely dubbed as the first Black supermodel. At 6’2, she was beautiful and hard to miss because she always stood out from the crowd.

Peggy, also known as Donyale, seemed to be a troubled woman when it came to her identity. She lied about being Black for years and often lied about having a large amount of Native American and Mexican ancestry. I remember shaking my head as I was reading this article because its quite obvious that she was a Black woman.

When Donyale soon realized that her strong African ancestry couldn’t be denied, she began to make up stories that she had very little African ancestry and was mulatta. How sad that this woman had so much of self-hate that she couldn’t even acknowledge being Black. It makes me wonder if she had some type of mental issue. I can’t help but to feel sorry for her.

There are pictures of Donyale wearing contacts and makeup that was lighter than her skin. She did that in an effort to make herself more appealing or exotic. I hate to say it, but it made her look absolutely ridiculous.

Donyale’s family has said she had issues with her identity and considering the period of time she was born in, I suspect she hated being Black. Her own family has admitted that she desperately sought the approval and acceptance of White people. Maybe she believed if she was mixed or made herself seem to be mixed, she would be accepted by White people. What a sad way to waste a life.

Its unfortunate that Donyale lived her life as a lie all because she wanted to be accepted, loved and respected by White people. If that’s not sad, I don’t know what is. A life wasted.

Until next time…

Books And a Bit of Research

As I’m preparing to write my next novel, I decided to do some research on a few more of my relatives. I never have to look far for inspiration or storylines because my relatives, my ancestors had very interesting lives.

When I put in my book descriptions, inspired by true life events, I mean just that. These are events that happened in real life to my people, my ancestors, my relatives. These aren’t things that I dreamt up out of my imagination. These things really did happen.

One such relative I had the pleasure of discovering more about was my other Grandfather. I never got the chance to meet him, but I heard so much about him. I could remember hearing stories how he was tall, dark, good-lookin’ and born in the late 1800’s. The trouble with that is no one knew the exact year he was born.

Do you know what I did? I did some digging.

Turns out, this Grandfather of mine was in fact born in the 1800’s, 1883 to be exact! How incredible is that? This 80’s baby has one Grandfather that was born in 1919 and the other Grandfather was born in 1883. To see it on paper made a world of difference to me. It made it real.

This discovery however is a little bitter sweet because I had to remember (once again) that my Grandfather’s parents were born as a slaves. Keep in mind that on June 19, 1865, the last of the remaining slaves in Texas were freed. It takes my breath away knowing that my Grandfather was born 18 years after the last remaining slaves were freed and 20 years after the Emancipation Proclamation.

How’s that for a family discovery.

Until next time…