Dear Leticia Part 2

A couple posts back, I wrote a letter to a woman who I call Leticia. Because I think that's her actual name. If it isn't, well, we will call her "Leticia." This is part two, in case you were dying to know what happened to one of Harlem's finest citizens. The first one is here but it won't be hard to catch up. There's a 3rd and final installment that I'll post in a couple of days. Unless she gives me more banter to share, which is very feasible.

Dear Leticia,

So remember the other day when Simone said we had a building meeting coming up? Said it was "very important?"

You turned your face at me-maybe you meant it, or not, cause I do it too-when I asked about it. Like I should know what the fuck is up.

Whatever, as long as yall don't fuck up my shit.

Now that I think about it, does this meeting have to do with you goin on the landlord the other night? From what I heard, the kids were playing on the stoop and making noise, whatever they were doing, caused him to come upstairs. He wanted you to control them, and generally keep it down. Because it was a Sunday night, and he (and his wife) had a job to get to in the morning.

Instead of doing the respectable thing, and complying, because you're a tenant and own nothing, because our leases specifically say "no hanging on the stoop," because its not the first time you've been called out, you decide that being disrespectful makes more sense. That you'd set the example for your kids (oh but wait, imma come back to the kids), that a grown woman, a mother, handles business by yelling twice as loud, coming twice as hard, because your opinion meant more than his and you weren't going no damn where from that stoop.

That you would call him out his name because, maybe he cares about the building, about the environment that we live in. You accuse him of "snitching on 3C" because "everytime something happens bad in this bulding, everyone wanna blame 3C."

"It's not fair! It's not fuckin fair!" You grab your children, ready to go upstairs. They're accustomed to your behavior. You're right, its not fair. All you doing is sitting outside trying to catch a breeze and a break.. Its so much work to be a single mother, and when all you (and the kids) know is the block, that's where you stay--for business, pleasure, war, peace, in mind, in spirit. The conditions under which you mother aren't fair. These are not fair conditions which we live in. Middle of the road, mediocre. Not good, not bad.

Fair would probably be a step up, had you been read to as a child, raised with the norms of success, that doing well was more than getting your GED whenever you got around to it, that teenage pregnancy would be the norm, and that believing you were the shit while being told you weren't shit was the foreword of your self-esteem. That your children deserved the same fair conditions you had. Twenty someodd years ago, you were playing on these same steps, on these same streets. Was it unfair then?

Yes, for many more reasons, its not fucking fair. You right.

Xoxo, tdixonspeaks

P.s. Those "kids" of yours...why they call you grandma? Is that a nickname or something? How old ARE you anyway? Lemme find out you have daughter MY age. I know black don't crack, but damn. You got that "I'm young but the hood has aged me" look but seriously, I bet you're almost twice the age you look.

for us, by us: Happy Black Girl Day!

I'm bringing my blog back from its mini-hibernation with Happy Black Girl Day, brought to you by @sistertoldja, and other HBGs around the universe. I was so upset that I'd missed the last one, but with it every 2nd Wednesday now (because when you create your own holidays, you can do what the f*ck you want), I get 12 days to...be happy. And black. And a girl. Half of black history month but so much more! Joy!

I'm not sure if the day is set aside to be a black girl (tm), and just that, without the bullshit statistics and what not looming over over my head, or if the day is "black girl day" and the salutation is "happy black girl day!" Hmm.

Anyway, I like lists, and I'm going to commemorate each HBGD with a short list of related black-girl things. Unless I'm compelled to do something different.

List: Black girls who make me happy to be a black girl.

1. My momma. A given right? I couldn't stand this broad for a minute (you know, that rough patch between 12 until... well...) But I've gained a new appreciation for her as an adult. I can relate to her a little better, and all the things that didn't make sense then just click now. I'm also inspired by her life, and granted she's not that old, but I wanna go back in time and chronicle her early/mid 20s and compare it to mine. Our lives so different (my 25 is not hers, to say the least) yet our conversations are the same. On a completely different note, she's a much happier black girl than she used to be, attributed to ... meeting another black girl that makes her happy (shoutout to other mom, as I call her). Plus, having all your kids moved out the house helps a little.

2. black girl bloggers. To the girls who are just *wendy williams voice* doin it! Yes, we have opinions. Sometimes we have them with hands on hips and with a roll in our neck. But we can also have them while using big words, talking bigger concepts and under the biggest headlines.

I have a hard enough time keeping up with my own blog, but, imma shout out a list of my favorite black girl bloggers by their twitter, because that's how I found them(and imma give them benefit of the doubt and say they're happy):

@516jap: educational disparities(kinda like a big sister, definitely a very happy black girl)
@funkybrownchick: sex/dating (I actually met her in person before I read the blog, good times)
@abelleinbk: dubbed the "black carrie bradshaw" by some (and if so, I will watch every episode as long as the hypothetical show actually takes place in bk and doesn't end in cinematic catastrophe)
@0_omzjoy: my e-twin, who reflects on life and stuff, and really gets it spot on.
@inetespionage: health/fitness/eating (I was a bit of a hater at first, but I like this girl. She's putting in the legwork that none of us are putting in, regardless of size, color or gender)

And obviously @sistertoldja. Admittedly, I haven't read her blog much, but I'm working on that. I'm not a religious reader of any of these blogs (though I'm pretty up to speed on Belle's formspring, that kills time on the subway, plus I'm nosy like that) but I'd hope that my blog would evolve to bits and pieces of these ladies. Their work makes me happy. Happy me makes for better writing and more blog posts.

3. Janelle Monae: Where has this chick been hiding my whole life? Her sound is awesomesauce through and through. "Tightrope" has replaced "Touch the Sky" as my "I'm feeling awesome today" iPod song. I should actually buy some of her music, but the last CD I bought was AKeys' 2nd CD. No, Sade "Lovers Rock." Yeah.

Anyway, the new album goes hard, but so does Metropolis. I want more of her. Preferably live, this summer.

4. My founders: ah yes, those 7 young ladies who paved the way for what would be thee greatest sorority ever, Sigma Gamma Rho. I can't imagine that being a mid20s black girl in the mid20s was happy times, which made their unity so much more important and special. Sigma makes me happy to be part of something bigger than myself, and I learn as much about her as I do about myself, as I come up on 5 years.

5. Diahann Billings-Burford: Little did I know how much working under this woman (well, not directly) would affect my ideals of being a professional black woman. She holds the Chief Service Officer spot for the city, and from the bits and pieces I know abt her (degrees from top schools, owns a BK brownstone, married with children, used to run some charter schools, is also greek) I kinda stan for her. And I will go one step further and say she's my real-life Claire Huxtable. I'd like to think I can come up like her.

Ok this was way longer than I wanted. But, until next HBGD, imma try to stay a HBG by getting back into yoga. I fell off after 4 days and need to make that happen.

Stay happy black girls!