ALL THAT SEEMS TO HAVE HAPPENED IS I WAS DENIALand that's the seems to be the eay of the land

You know, I was just reading the latest post over at Darkdaugtha, and on my second pass I was like: holing shyte - I don't even know what to say. I am shocked. Not because is it not true, but because of my reactions to what I saw. What I saw where a group of names of First Nations locations in Ontario - and I realized I know nothing ... I mean literally nothing about the indigenous people of the land that my family is settling on.

That's not ok. That's fucked up. What the hell! What the fuck is going on? I can blame the government, I can blame the education system (an arm of the government) or I can just own the fact that I MYSELF have done NOTHING to educate myself around the genocide and land stealing program.

My friend MARNI

So, I've just picked up the "Mother Zone" a book by Marni Jackson, and I have to say, it is come at quite the right time for me. She opens up about her family, like few do. I am really about opening up, and sharing my feelings, but have found the a lot of people really don't like to do that. They may pretend that they do, but really - they don't.

Truly, I am trying to build friends for Stinkapee, after having gone thru so much change and difficulties over the past year, or rather I should say - after having so much change thrown at her over the past few years - I really want to put my best effort forward in trying to get her some nice friends. You know, I've found, that for the most part, children aren't nice.

So, at this point, I'm trying to build allies for her. I don't want to risk alienating the parents and then risk Stinkapee a play date. I don't have to connect with them on all things politically, I just want Stinkapee to have some fun.

Anyway, reading Jackson - was like reading a friend. I was having a melt down yesterday. Today is a better day, for sure.

For me, the men I meet don't meet me where I am, and always leave me feeling off. Today I'm putting out a posting for my men's group. I'll write more later...

RESENTMENTi shouldn't be writing this, but I want all my time back, not some, but all... and I want that denial pill again...and...

The clothes need to get folded, stuff needs to get done, piles of paper need to be picked up, a lot of things need to get done around the house. I know this. I know this. I know this. But I want to sleep, I want to go walking, I want to go for a beer, I want to fuck off! And I don't want to negotiate with anyone. I don't want to negotiate with DD, AND I also want to be taken care off, I want to loved, I want to be pampered; I don't want to have to do anything, I don't want to take people's feelings in to consideration, I don't want to feel my feelings, I want to pretend I don't see, I want to run, I want to be left to wander, I want a large bank account, I want stuff handed to me on a silver platter, I don't want to be accountable for my actions, I don't want to be accountable for my actions, I don't care... I don't care... I don't care...

I'd don't like to answer questions, I don't want this and I don't want that. Everyone, fuck off! I just want silence! I just want no one to talk to me. Okay, I want everyone to talk to me! AHHHHHH!

I'm a teenager! I'm a child! I'm confused! Well, I know what I want. And it's ALL juvenile! But it is ...
Ok, I need to go and read a post I wrote a couple of days back. No doubt, I'll be like: oh yes: I remember writing this - I must have blanked it, .. i feel like crying now.. I feel like a mess...
ok.. i'm going to read the post called: "Took a trip to Monrovia, Dad revealed." April 11.2007

Reading this post should ground me. Then I'm going for a walk around the block, and taking some deep breaths. Then I'm going to have a chat with myself (or on this blog)

Blood, Piss, and Shyt...

So, I'm thinking about my relationship to the human body, and how much I hate my body, and how much I hate the female body, and how much I hate stuff oozing out of bodies. Ok, so my rationale *adult* self doesn't show this for real- in public - but I do hate it.

I've been thinking about how I see and understand the human body, and it is in a very surface way. What this post is really about is the game of denial of play with myself, and how dangerous is actually is. I have issues on my body that need to get checked. I have dental stuff. I have bones stuff. I have a fair number of things that need to be checked out by a homeopath.

IN terms of the blood, piss, and shyt.. well, I have issue with women's bodies, how they work, and what they do. I want to talk about how I expect women to be the picture of cleansed, while I think it's okay to walk around spitting, whorking, outside - the car, on the sidewalk. Sounds like your typical double standard. Sounds pretty basic.

But it is the truth.

I came from a sanitized family house, devoid of mention of bodily functions and when it was mentioned, it was usually frowned on, or in the case farts, laughed. One thing is for sure, ther was no discussion around what women's bodies do - how they work, or anything like that. My father explained nothing. NOTHING. period. My mom either. So, I'm realizing as I write this, that I have another piece of me that I'm set to repeat with my children (and myself) which is fear of the female body - which is a book...
More coming...

I don't know Kathy Sierra either but - WHAT A GOOD WAY TO GET RID OF SOMEONE... hmmmm

This is in reference to an important piece I read at darkdaughta's blog.
So, getting rid of someone doesn't really need an outside force now does it. It looks like all someone has to do is say someone *did* something, put it all over blog land and suddenly - over night - the accused person is in a major shyt storm - and all of blog land has to be under strict manners and rules. Read: BLOG law. So, what will be the punishment for going outside the manners. Who will decide if it what is being said is even true.

I'm thinking about that CBS man, and his comments, and how we don't actually know if his comments were his, or if it was a smart, well created campaign to lift a slumping CBS radio out of the ratings grave yard. What has happened to CBS radio stock; and CBS radio ratings sense all of that began.

And the CBS man? He may have been paid out; he may be offered a new job at a new station, or he may go travel for a bit. Who knows?

But back to the main issue here... here's what I know. Something seems to be brewing. Bloggers, like people in general communicate indirectly, save a few brave souls... A way of dealing that is so indirect, a lot of people don't even know - or have time to see what is going on.
If you (a blogger) don't like a person, or a person's views, you (the blogger) can tell a story about how the person you don't like (or their views) have been attacked and treated. "I'm scared!" "I fear for my life!" "This person is going to kill me!"

You need not show proof, you need not show evidence, you just need to be able to make sure people see your accusations, and off you go!

Words have a lot of charge to them, and no one seems to be talking about what exactly are the facts regarding this Kathy Sierra issue. In fact, is anyone asking: what was the relationship between the people involved? Or more importantly: the person who did this *attack*, what are their political views? Are they against the grain? What else is going on here? Who is Kathy Sierra anyway? Simple questions? Anyone asking?

But imagine (if you will!) if nothing had happened, and this person simply wanted to neutralize an opinion or someone.

Or maybe, I wanted to get more links, more posts, be more popular (and make no mistake, from what I can tell, this is a popularity game. OR MAYBE THEY JUST WANT BLOG LAND PERIOD TO BE BROUGHT under control.. read: all those anarchists, lefty bloggers, and or people who think outside of narrow parameters - beware. You're about to be rained in.

We are living in dangerous times. But then, we always were.

NOW THAT'S WHAT I'M TALKIN' ABOUT! i am so going to do this!

Fresh off my post about playing with Barbies and one thing I forgot to do was talk about the purpose of the post. I was fustrated with (and I still am fustrated) with the limitations put on boys and men. And so, I bring you ... MALE BELLY DANCERS.

Click the player below to watch: TITO, one of EGYPT'S HOTTEST MALE BELLY DANCERS
enjoy.

SO I WAS SITTING ON THE TOILET, thinking about Barbie...

After I woke up this morning, I was in the bathroom reading my Intimacy and Solitude workbbook. I decided to fast forward to the part about gender. And while reading it, I found I re-connected with something I did when I was a child. I played with Barbie!

You see, when I was visiting Barbados - where some of my cousins' lived (when I was a child), one of my cousins had a huge Barbie house, with all the figures, sofas and even a car. The house was about a metre tall, and three metres in width. It was big.

Before this latest realization, I did remember playing with this house, but all I used to remember about it was that I wanted to burn it down. [I think I hated that cousin - but that's another post]
And I could wrap my mind around that - after all - I was a boy, and what do boys do, they make mess and disaster. That memory made sense.

But this morning, I remembered more.. I remembered making up an entire story about the dolls. I gave them new names, and I remembered being Ken. I drove the convertable. It was bright purple... [I think I really liked that]

Anyway, I think I made up a story where Ken was cheating on Barbie, and Barbie decided to get some revenge on Ken by torching his car.

In Barbados, a lot of folks light their gas stoves by matches, so I went on over to the kitchen to grab some matches. I thought.. how amazing, I'll have and epic ending to this story... wouldn't it be cool if everything burned up... the car, the house? everything.
I really didn't think it thru. (Hey I was 10.) I loved films and tv at this point, and so I think that fueled my passion for this.. does this sound like a cliche?

Anyway, the worst was to come.
Before I got a chance to do my firey grand finale - my cousin, a male, caught me playing with the figures. And so it began: "Oh my god... he's playing with Barbies - we knew he was fruity!" "Mom! he playing with her dolls!!! Doesn't he know they're for girls?" I remember denying that I was even playing with them.

Which made no sense, it was obvious that I was. That's all I can remember right now.
And don't even get me started on my demand for an ez-bake oven...

Well, gotta go - have to feed my son.

Sharing ideas and thoughts: I'm writing to you

Galin. Thanks for leaving your post. I'm glad you did. Only thing is, I went to try and link to you and could not find you or your blog. I'm interested in knowing what types of things are happening for you as you read my blog. So much of the problem with men is, we are completely disconnected from each other. Lets see what can be shared.
Looking forward to hearing back.

I took a cyber field trip to Japan: PODJAPAN and found...

a comment on men and women in Japan. Here is a snip (or click here to read the article)

Pod Japan wrote: one of the major problems in Japan: the mother / son relationship is way too strong, which stunts the emotional development of boys, and later makes it much harder for them to relate normally to women. So when (and if) they get married, they won't know how to make their wives happy... Lather, rinse and repeat: this vicious circle has been perpetuating itself for at least 50 years, and I personally don't see what can break it"

My comment was:

OKAY - Well, your comments can go further. It is really sad that the world has been constructed in this manner. You speak of the problem being the mother / son relationship inference being the unhealthy relationship between a mother and her son. Well, I think more the issue is the unhealthy relationship between the men in Japan with .. well.. other men. They teach each other to hate and disrespect women; they don't value girl babies / children and only want to invest (care, love, funds) in the boy- child. And this dominating belief has no doubt effected the way mothers/ woman see themselves. It is no wonder some of the women in Japan have unhealthy relationships with their sons.

This is what has been reinforced and taught over and over and over again by the ruling class... the MEN. I think we should start there instead of pointing fingers at - as usual - mothers/ women/ girls.

As well, it speaks to the sad state of "male culture" - which is universal - they only way we actually exist as a powerful force is to dominate, humiliate and belittle women. We men need some serious help. I for one, think a men's emotional revolution is necessary.
Thoughts?

RE-READING AWAKENING

"...Something.
.. say anything..." I say to myself.

I don't listen to my internal voice. I listen to my little boy who says: you don't have to talk if you don't want to..."

TO which DD says:

Seminal... this is the part where you get angry with me for calling you on your shit!" I say nothing.
I stare at DD and say nothing.

What brought on all of this? Well, this time it was the sound of Shamolian (our 9 month old baby). I had left him to crawl all over the futon (or roll rather) while I flicked the television. I was on the futon to. I'd turn him every few seconds, but mostly he didn't like it. He made struggling sounds, sounds of fatigue and sounds that seemed to say: pick me up... pick me up...". So I turned off the television, got flat on my back (on the futon), and tired to put him on my stomach to sleep - he often likes this.

He didn't .. and at this point, I can understand why.

So, I'll put him at my side.

DD came into the room seconds later. She asked me if I had been sleeping. "No, I hadn't been sleeping I said." "I heard Shom in distress"

To be continued. More to be added.

FIRST NATIONS, me and my 5 yr old.

SO Stinkapee and I jumped into our car and drive across town. Where we are going, I have no idea - but I do know that I wasn't going to be home. DD and I talked about how we have different experiences in our growing up relating to men. If I get triggered, I'll tend to freeze and not know what to do next.

I know I'm suppose to have feelings of shame around this... like... hey your partner is dealing with the landlord and not you. What kind of man are you. Answer: A smart one. My partner and I have diferent talents - and are trying to weigh the emotional weight of each other. It's not all men this happens with - our landlord is a very specific type. So we concluded that it'b be ok if I wasn't in the house if I was around.

ON the drive, Stinkapee was very excited about all the posters and fryers in our neighbourhood. I asked Stinkapee what she'd like to do, and she said get a surprise present for *Mama*. She said:
"What kind of cake does MAma like, cause we could get her a really cool CHOCOLATE cake." To which I said, "what a great idea.. only thing.. well, i'm not sure Mama likes chocolate as much as you..."
Then she asked me, "well what kind of cakes does Mama like? I told her, Mama likes "apples and vanilla ice cream." YIPEE! she exclaimed. We'll get a vanilla ice cream cake with apples!" Her face was glowing.

When we got to our destination, I asked Stinkapee if she wanted to walk for a bit. She said yes. We came to one of about 10 Japanese restaurants in this particular area. Stinkapee pooked her head into one restaurant.

I saw a crowd, and I thought... NO. No crowds. I can't handle crowds right. I thought about Stinkapee and the crowd, and not being able to hear her. I also thought my attention would be drifting all over the place trying to keep her out of hazards. I hate that. I'm forced to micro manage and this also pisses off Stinkapee.

We finally found a restaurant that was not crowded at all. Basically, it sat about 40 and there were about 4 people in the whole space. Perfect I thought.

The waitress came, and was very charmed by Stinkapee asking for tempura. Stinkapee also informed the waitress that she was going to make tempura at home. In other posts I'll write more about the actual lunch and how it went.

I want to jump to what happened when we were getting back in the car to leave the visited neighbourhood. There were these two white men are walking up the street and speaking loudly. I am in the process of putting Stinkapee in our car, and one of them is saying to the other:

"You know, the major problem with Canada is that try saying any racial slur and someone is going to have something to say about it - except if it's about the First Nations. If I say "that stupid drunken Indian" right here on the street - chances are no one is going to say anything."

Now I heard this just as I was closing Stinkapee's car door, to which I said: "Oh I'd have something to say.. I'd have a few choice words" To which he then said - "well, I' really sorry - and I'm glad you would but I mean most others."

I got in my car, and immediately Stinkapee asks me why she doesn't see more First Nations people. I said to her, because the government made a bad decision and decided many of them needed to live in their own neighbourhoods - called reserves. Then she asked me why the people in history made such bad choices. I told her it was a lotof people who live on the goddess mother earth's planet have parents that didn't deal with their emotions. Do you talk about your emotions Stinkapee. "Yes, I do." she replied.

Well, many people don't. In fact, the parents of some people in government have parents which are Durselys. And their grandparents, and their grandparents are durselys too. And when you're a dursely, you make bad choices, and choices that hurt people.

"I never want to be a dursely Papi." she says. "You could never be Stinkapee. I love you." I reply. "Papi" she continues, can we go to Disney World.

*Boy it just keeps on coming*

Constant Mothering

So, I just got into an argument, or was it a non-argument with my partner about my constant need for attention in a particular fashion, the mothering fashion. Yes, a constant validation that only a mother can offer (which mine will not - and yes my little boy is angry about that)

I want my attention, I want my attention, I want my attention. I want it at all costs. I went to counseling today... ... I'm having a realization about my friendship with my friend Charles. You see, him and I are starting a men's group, which incorporates journaling, reading, and reflection. But he just told me he's kinda not into writing. And I thought about how it would be great if he knew about blogging.

But then again, who am I to talk. I'm really similar to him in that I'm addicted to work... all the time. I just so happen to have a partner with boundaries, and so - she expects me to follow thru on what I commit to. Not so for him.

And even with the partner, it has taken me years to move - and i'm still struggling. Go back and read some of earlier posts... i'm still in a lot ways still in that place.


Anyway, I saw this doc on Metellica, DD talks about this on her site, in which the band is going thru some really tough times and so hires a psychotherapist to come and see them once a week to work out their stuff. I envision something like this for me and my group. Of course, who's got the deep pockets to pay for it on Metellica's scale? Well, Metellica. Maybe we all wouldn't see the therapist every week - maybe it would be once a month.

But it would take some serious commitment.

And would probably end my constant need to be mothered all the time by my partner. I need to take control of my serious lack of emotional care from my parents. I need to take control of this. Right now, I'm just total ball of .. well ... old rage. I talked to my counsel today and released a lot of anger - an anger charge that seems like it is endless. I don't stop. I feel like I'm always angry.

So, I beat up my crazy landlord, that madman - I gave him all my rage. Jumped on his face, threw across the room. Gave him round house, kicks and side kicks. I elbowed him, I kicked him - this of course all in the comfort of my therapists' office.

I think I need to do that everyday. It was my brother I was beating up. It was probably also the rest of my birth family that I am angry at that I don't have a chance to tell off in person. And of course, I don't have a chance to beat up... though I think I'd like too.

Everyone one of them needs a good beating by me. No talking. Just beating. Maybe i shouldn't write this. Maybe it's not safe. I'm having thoughts around me being a "dangerous Black man" that one needs to be careful of.

You know, I saw today as mothering myself. Now, if i could just keep the ball rolling. I put my call out for my group out in my blog and keep you all informed of what happens next.

THE SHMOLIANthe birth of a new baby

The latest edition to our household is already 8 months old. I feel shocked at how little I wrote about the birth. But I just wasn't able to commit to doing the writing just yet.

It was very moving and emotional and intense. It was frightening. It was joyful. It was scary. It was natural. It was birth. My daughter was there. The mid-wives were there. We filmed it. We watched it. Again.

IN some previous posts I think I've talked about the importance of being present for this child, knowing that he is a boy-child and knowing how boy children - specifically Black boy children are under-mis educated and pretty well... left back.

But b4 I get all theoretical on you, let me just write my feelings down, I mean for gods sake the point of this blog was to talk about my feelings. First the birth: it was like nothing I had ever experienced before. I mean, I wasn't emotionally present for stinkapee - I would say - I mean - I was there but only in body. You should see my eyes in some of the pictures of that day. I look like a fucking zombie.

I don't even think I was there. It was like a was on another planet. Some place far far away. I mean my head is exploding right now just thinking about how I felt in the moment. My young self didn't even really believe it was all happening. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
Oh shit... I need to get a hold of myself.

So when I think about Shomalian, I think - the opposite. I has present and excited and really interested in the birth. Our life was different physically, but more importantly, I was seeing a counselor, attending a mens group, facilitator of a young men's group against violence and reading. Then slowly things started to change and I didn't know what to do. Well that's not true either. Wow, writing is something else. Of course I knew what to do, I just didn't want to change anything. I wanted to stay miserable and angry and complain. I still want to be angry... okay I'm ranting now.

Back to the day of the birth. It was an unbelievably beautiful day. I was shitting bricks though cause 4 days before, I had been preparing for (the baby's) arrival. DD was having light contractions on the Thursday (he wasn't born until the following Monday) But because of the quick birth of Stinkapee, I thought - i guess we all thought it best to be ready. So, the midwives came over, I paced up and down a little - and I even had my trusty video camera.

Gotta go pick up my daughter - more later.
I

THE VOICES IN MY HEADand how need to get them out

I was reading "I don't want to talk about it" (Terrence Real, Author) not long ago. Not long ago at all in fact, say just a couple of minutes. The chapter is called Two Inner Children. Even though the person Real describes doesn't look anything like me, I definitely had a a-ah moment. Even as I write this I'm starting to get tired.

But I'm going to fight this. My body starts to shut down when things start to get too emotional. Seriously, it does. It even happens with my counselor, in her office - I can't even believe it.

So I'm reading the book and he's talking about one of his clients, a mid-twenties man who says he likes to spend most of his time practicing "self immolation". And I thought to myself, what it this, and do I do that?

Then Terrence started to talk about what it meant, and then I knew I could relate. He writes:
"There was something wrong with me, something unlike other people - something frightening and bleak. I felt a perverse sense of blackness, (I'm not going into a race analysis here), sadness.."

I think I feel this all the time. No, I know I do. Last year I think I was doing pretty well, but then I just fell off the wagon. My men's group collapsed, and my community that was being built, shifted. No more did I have anyone to hide behind...

I've got to clean up now... I'll be back in a sec.

NBA player comes out

This is going to be very interesting. I immediately thought about how I understood myself when I was a child, how I understood what it means to be a man, a human, a living being, and the lines that were not to be crossed - for any reason. MORE TO COME
Please look at this, comments to follow.

I'M BACK

IT has been quite a bit since I wrote in this blog. Actually, I haven't really written anything, anywhere in a while. So I've got loads to share about my family, the movement that has happened there; my friendship developments, and OF COURSE the birth of my son. Hell, that deserves it's own blog for that matter. Speaking of which, have you seen my partner's blog?

So, where to begin. I suppose I should just start right? Ok...

WANNA BLOW YOUR HEAD OFF?

check out the latest (Feb 17, 2007) posting over at darkdaughta.blogspot.com

This is a repeat...OF OLDER CONVERSATION(?)

Work with depressed man and their partners has convinced me that men's much-vaunted fear of women and of intimacy is really not a fear of EITHER. What men fear is subjugation. In the one up/one down, better than/less then, hierarchical world of traditional masculinity, one is either in control or controlled. Vulnerability, openness, yielding to another's wishes - many of the requiste skills for healthly relationships - can be experineced by men as invitations to be ATTACKED. Men's fear of entrapment, of female engulfment, is not really about women at all. It is a transposition of a male model of interaction to the living roon and the bedroom. When men fear that their women will "engulf" them, they fear that their women will act like men.

insert more from 318-319.

WWhat Real is talking about here between Joe and Barbara is something that has happened with darkdaughta and I except for the fact that darkdaughta does talk about how she is feeling. She is actually quite good and clear at proposing courses of actions and talking the lead at neigotating a path.

But I think this is where I experience my partner and the construction of her "engulfing" me. And it has become even worse, as I now move to actively sabotage all that was created. My latest and most tidy tactic is to not listen to anything DD says - at all, ever. And I want her to stop pointing it out to me. I want her to stop.

Memories of the past few days/weeks:
1. Camp director came up to DD to find out why Stinks missed grad performance. I agreed to handle this b4 hand, but drop the ball and left DD a sitting duck
2. After a long day out, DD told me she was hungry (she's breast feeding) and told me EXACTLY what to make her. I came downstairs and 20 minutes later( it felt like 5 minutes) , still- had still not gotten thru making the first part of the dish.

Truly though, I don't express love the same way as DD. I'm willing to take what I can get from her. I enjoy everything she gives me. But I don't give back in the same way.

I won't even always think first when it comes to Stinks and the new baby. I see things and blank that I ever saw them. Or I should saw, choose to blank them.

So here I am on blogger, at like 5 in the morning on Sunday.

Need to cry now.

Slipping backwards

Well. I'm barely communicating with my DD. The birth of the new baby has been amazing. We plan on doing so much, loving and laughing and caring and touching with him. BUt b4 I get to all of that - I'm still back at battling my little boy. Why did I write battle? You know who I battle? I battle DD. I battle stinks. I've been battling a fake opponent and I've sabotaged my process repeatedly.

I refuse to do anything different.
I'm always resting on my superior stuff. I saw this family riding the streetcar and the guy was so asleep at the wheel. He wasn't communicating with his partner about where to bring their stroller, how to navigate around the crowd etc. When it was time to get off, he just walked away from her. Sounds familiar.

I'm not walking away from DD when we are on the tram, but I walk away in conversation all the time. All of the issues in Az. have made it possible for my issues to be obsecured.

But that is all changing now, with the shifting of the house set-up.

These are (un)edit comments written at 4.57am.

I think about where I was even a few months ago on this blog. What happened to my 'progress'. What happened to staying focused? What do I have now? I'm gonna go read.

HOW 'BOUT BEING HONESTcause I now what I do...

Well, I'm back. Well i never went anywhere really. DD, is on the verge of giving birth - I think she's about 3 weeks or less away - and would you believe I managed to block all over the place. But really in fact, I need to go back and read my other posts - posts that I should be learning from. Posts that without referencing, just seem to be performance.
Remember the post about sex, or how about listening, or how about ....
all have been well - dashed to one side - why? oh, I've told myself a version of ... work... no stability... stuff... blah.. blah.. it all amounts to blahhhhhhh
hhhhhhhhh
hhhhhhhhh
now - i'm going to re-read, and return. Then I'm going to do get back on the horse I said I wanted to ride (my life - to be clear) and ride.

SO I'M JUST SUPPOSE TO PUT UP WITH CRAPi'm looking for a friend but not at any cost

So, a few months back I met this friend, Morgan. I was really excited because it seemed like Morgan and I - who were completely different - were hitting it off.

He was going to 'popular' personal healing retreats on weekends and I was seeing my counsellor and continuing to build inside Azania. Building meaning - having difficult conversations about relationships etc. Anyway, there have been so major bumps in our road to building frienship, even though I have really tired to be honest and clear from the outset. We've talked about our differences: race, values; but also our commonalities - like both of us making foolish decisions when it comes to advice and suggestions from our partners.

I know for me, it goes beyond - well you're a woman so I'm not listening to you. But that certainly plays some part for me - cause I know that was what was modelled to me.

And I know, that Morgan is struggling with similiar issues and that there is something to gain by remaining friends. I'm just at a cross-roads because he did something yesterday that really pissed me off.

And as I write this, I'm struggling to not make excuses for his behaviour - oh, but, I've already been down this road and Morgan's weird choices - which aren't really weird - they are in fact: quite clear.

First, their was Morgan positioning me to his wife as jocking to watch his son, so my daughter and his son Billy could make it to their weekend activity. This was not the case, and it was that Morgan had other plans, didn't want to break them, and instead asked his partner if I could take their son, with Stinkapee to their weekend activities in their car. Then his partner came back talkin' 'bout: well, I don't know Seminal that well, I'll have to warm to him"

I told Morgan everyhing that happened in a nice chain of events so that he could get a clear picture of what had happened, so he knew why I was pissed off at him. I also told him that I was scared that he wouldn't want to be my friend if I told him the truth. A reality since many people don't like the truth. This is especially hard because I am looking for TRUE male friends who I can count on and trust.

Well, Morgan took full responsibility for creating an messed up dynamic he was creating between myself, his wife, and his son.

I thougth t myself... ok... this is interesting. Well, we are building friendship - that went over OK, let's keep going.

FASTforward>>>

It has been a couple of weeks since what occured above. It's now May 14, and Morgan and I haven't seen each other so much recently. Although, he did pick up a copy of I don't Want to talk about It and we are going to meet once a week to talk about it. (Excuse the wordage)

That's good. But now that it looks like were going to meet, and it is slowly looking like I'm going to have a reading and growth partner - something has to be taken away. What's the something you might wonder?
Well, on the weekend, Morgan promised to pick up Phoenix and Stinkapee (something that has been prearranged for awhile now) and take them, and his son, to their martial arts class. He told me that he'd by watching a soccer game, and then would pick them up. He never came. Moreover, he never mentioned it to Phoenix when he saw them again - TODAY - and did not bring it up when I spoke to him on the phone. I did. When I brought it up - he said to me: the game went into overtime and so, he stayed. HE also said that he and his son didn't end up going after all.

Interestingly, his behaviour as I type this reminds me a lot of myself and how I would deal with DD, early in our relationship. I was convinced I was doing a lot, and in fact, in some ways I was. But that didn't cancel out all the missed up stuff I did with negiotating it b4 hand.

How did I understand myself in building with DD? I'm not saying the relationship is the same as Morgan. But, all fustration with Morgan aside, what is all of this making me remember about how I treated DD earlier on, and even up to now.

Their are some links to be made. For example, I was pretty clear with Morgan about what I want out of a solid man friend. One of my criteria was making sure Stinkapee and the people in her life - are for her safety, growth and development. He damn well should have left that game to follow thru on the promise he made.

I would have done that for his son.

But, look around my blog. I should go back and read all the different places I renegated on my promises to DD...

More later... Stinkapee is coming in the house... and I gotta put her down - sorry for the typeOs

SCABOBLARS! i hit a crucial point today...

Today was an incredible day in many ways. It was a day that I will remember for along time. I told my counsellor about my grandmother's close friend, Sadie who chased me around in her house when I was visiting the West Indies. She would try and succeed in catching me and fonddling my testicles which she dubbed: my scaboblars.

At my counsellor, I told her. She was horrified. A little boy - age 8, being touched by an 70 year elder. Imagine, reverse the gender - and make it an 8 year girl, whose boundaries were being crossed my a 70 year man. Sounds horrible eh?

I started to describe what would happen and how I even found myself in the caribbean island. I was sent their because my parents, didn't know how to deal with their son being abused and terrorized by another son.

Little did they know, I was being fondled 'in the sun' in my safe space. Donna, my counsellor said to me - Seminalson, what are you thinking and feeling right now...

I started down an incredible path... join me...

THINGS ARE MOVINGfor the most part...

I don't think I've done nearly enough crying because I feel full of tension, fear, and general "oh no - someone's gonna find out" - find out what? Well, it's not about finding out something. It just childhood stuff.
I'm getting ready to go see my counsellor and I remembering yesterday when I had mini-melt down which looked like me starting to care less, and less about myself. It was me replaying home life in Monrovia, were no one talked (in fact no one does) and I was sometimes too uncomfortable/ scared to ... but when I look at some of the memories that have come up for me since I last posted - I'm not surprised.

First, I was sitting and talking with Pheonix in the kitchen. I was talking about my family, and remembered that my when I was growing up - on one of the trips to the Caribbean my folks would send me on to get me away from my brother (instead of dealing with him) that I had been abused. My grandmother's good friend, who was around 70-75 at the time used to chase me around (I was around 8 or 9, or 10 or 13) and grab my testicles. She would say: "i'm gonna get your scaboblars boy!, I'm gonna get them"

I actually laughed when I remembered. I thought, now that's silly, isn't it. But it's not silly. It's fucked up. I have to go now... many layers to this.. and I'm going to write more on how I'm dealing with this in really healthy ways...

WHAT DO YOU DO WHEN YOU GET A HEADACHE WHEN YOU SEE YOUR MOTHERinvite her over again of course...

You know, some would say that i'm lucky. I at least have the pleasure of knowing that my parents didn't actually know what they were doing when they raised me. Didn't have a clue, emotionally - of how to take care of children.

Pleasure, I mean, in that my mother (Bel) admits this freely now - a switch from the the usually - I was just doing the best that I could..." OR the classic - well you have kids, lets see how they turn out. The latter is really is hard to hear - it shuts down all conversation, leaves now space for anything.

Ok, so moving past that now, Bel still does cause me headache. My head burst with a thrubbing pain on the left side when she and her sister came over to the house the other day. Thankfully, I had spoken with my partner days b4, and she advised me to only to have Bel and her sister. Not, Grave (my father) too. As I tell my stinkapee many times... he's sleeping.

MY BEHAVIOURS ARE ALL FROM THEM, not new info, BUT I KEEP DOING IT... Spin cycle - wash... soap... spin.. spin...

Ok, I'm gonna talk about home now...

re/PARENTING feild trip

OKAY, well this wasn't a re-parenting field trip on purpose; I just went to my family home, Monrovia Place to borrow my folks car. I slept there because my I was going to drop the patriarch of the home to his place of work in the morning and then be off with the vehicle.

But being there is such an education for me because I observe (and shock/traumatize myself) when I watch the interactions between my two parents. I woke up hearing my father singing mickey mouse: m-i-c-k-e-y - and it dawned on me that he's not crazy - in that mainstream sense of the word - ha. ha. ha - but more like horribly triggered around his own childhood.

He was in the bathroom/ shower and sang the song over, and over , over again for about 20 minutes. I started to remember when one of my brothers attack me, and how he never got involved. IN fact, one time, he started bursting into tears at the top of stairs - as if he (my dad) was a little boy - the one being attacked.

... and

Also while I was in the house - I was telling my mother how much time and effort and patience it has taken to make sure Tigana is safe and secure, and for the house to run well - smooth and efficient - with everyones feelings being heard. Sometimes I have feelings of wanting to link our experiences - like I want to erase stuff that has happened in the past. It's like I'm set to denial when I'm ready. SO, i asked her: how did you run a home, how did you do it.

Her reply: I didn't.

Balancing Poly/ Life and Feelings

SO, I feel VERY SAD that the state has been invited into our home. I really feel sad. I feel like we really struggle to be the best caregivers possible, sitting with and dealing with our emotional selves. Yes we struggle with dd, we go to counsellors and really dealing with our stuff. We try. We attempt to be proactive. Bonga, encouraged by dd to see a counselor, gave her therapist some back story, history about her past childhood, and how this weaves into her present. For example, she told us she told her counsellor that in talking about her past with her bio-parents, and their emotional neglect of her, she was concerned and watching to make sure that this would not happen with Stinkapee. Bonga was being proactive and I support her in doing this. Her counsellor took this information and wrongly assumed that understood that Stinkapee was in danger from Bonga - which she is not - and filed an report with an arm of the state.

I am angry at Bonga's counsellor for not informing Bonga of her the client/practioner relationship; and her counsellor's decision to keep secret files on her and not voice her concerns - I am disheartened in another way. That is, I'm feeling sad around the structure that exists in our community right now to deal with this or any other crisis.

Azania is to be a strong group of adults caring for a child, caring for our lives as we attempt to build something better and stronger, and more solid than what we had when we were growing up.

And as I know we must move thru this - and we will - (as I say this, Phx just told me she going to clean the bathroom2) I'm forced to think about what I should have been up to by this point in Azania. The choices that I made that have led not being prepared.

It has been totally unexceptable. And I mean this, because dd literally shared ALL of her tools, her experiences, all wrapped in emotional support to build in this community and I was to (and still am) wrapped up in ego and self importance to move consistently thru it.

I can hear it now... because I hear it all the time... you're being too hard on yourself S2. You're doing the best that you can, and all you can do at this point is breath. No, I can do a hell of a lot more than that.

First, I can post this, so someone out there reading can see / learn from my experience. Also, too me, what exists right now in Azania, I need to understand does not mean - ok - we're in a crisis and so, all bets are off, and so - I need to try and go into nuclear hetero mode and start interacting with dd like everything I know about her is theory and pretend. Now would not be the time to give up on my agreements. Now would not be the time to try and forget about our poly relationship and for me to re-treat into monogamy.

Hell, you might say: I WOULD, sounds great - makes sense to me - after all, look at what Bonga has modelled to everyone in the community. What options do I have left? And when I say modelled to everyone in community, I'm talking about her having known dd the longest and chosen to block relationship building amongst the members unless she was central.

But it isn't great, it's messed up.

Last night, when I got back to the house from a parenting group with Bonga, I was feeling pretty low because of what had happened during the day with the state. I got home, and immediately wanted to be away from Bonga - who was doing her regular 'i'm falling asleep, i'm tired, i haven't eaten dinner' routine and being generally uncommunicative in the taxi. I called her out on this, but she does it so often, to her it's like putting butter on bread. She likes being called on it.

This stuff she does is very manipulative. But at this point it's outrageous. We are trying to get this home running well, Stinkapee safe and educated; food supply maintained; Phx's new space moved in from another house; house maintenance in order; ARRIVAL OF THE NEW BABY in the next few weeks; own our stuff around sucking dd emotionally and not being accountable - note to Bonga - stop modelling messed up behaviours to Phx and me. Stop it.

Anyway, at the house that night, I put Stinkapee down for the night, and saw Phx. Her and Bonga were having some dynamic which I really needed to be away from - but wasn't ready to speak to fully to. Not out of respect for their stuff. No. it was more like - I wasn't ready to ask them for what I needed for my support (given what happened today) in my moment and of course, I can always default to "where's dd??" she's in the house no? I'll find her ...

Found her: she was in comfy cozy - our living room space. It was wonderful to see dd. It's always wonderful to see dd. But in our interaction, she made a valid point, she wanted to know what I wanted from her - she had been home watching television for a couple of hours now, and (as I know, and she has stated many times) if she actually wants something - she'll SAY so.

And she was right. She's not one of those - "oh, you're being silent so I need to do something to make you better." The truth was, I needed to do something to move thru what I was feeling.
And so, I kissed dd and went back upstairs and relayed the brief interaction I had with dd to Bonga and Phx.

I told them I was should have asked for what I needed earlier in the evening. Phx was like - remember I asked you when you came in S2 - how are you feeling? She did. I blanked it - I was clear in my head when I arrived in the house: where's dd?

Anyway, Phx and Bonga asked what I'd like: I told them, I wanted to have a shower, smoke a little bit of a cigarette and then cry. I said I wanted one or both of them to be with me during my crying.

They agreed.

WATCH THIS SPACE FOR INTIMACY/ THOUGHTS INSPIRED BY READINGS FROM DARKDAUGHA AND TERRENCE REAL

I WOKE UP RIGHT AWAY...

LAST night I was dreaming about stinkapee and myself running through the YMCA. I trying to get stinkapee's attention but she had other things on her mind.

Suddenly, a woman with a head wrap came along and started to tell me me why it was so important for stinkapee to listen. What will happen when she's older and she doesn't know any better? - this head wrapped woman said.

Then, as I looked closer at her face, I realized that the woman wasn't a stranger at all. It was my great aunt, who died about 8 years ago. I screamed in horror: in pain because I missed her; in fear because a piece of her was such a horrible person; I was so jolted... I woke myself up ... a tear on my cheek.

I CAN'T RUN FROM MY BRAIN After years of denial/struggle resulting in a stalled sex life .. I re/embark on a crucial journey

The ironic and sad part of this next post is that sex has been abundant in the house, and in my relationship with darkdaughta - I have had lots of opportunities (and actually continue to) have lots of responsible sex in a polyamorous context. The choices that I have made within that make no sense, unless I am trying to live out what I think I deserve: a sexless existence. And of course, this is not what I want... and this is not what my life in Azania has been... quite the opposite in fact.

SO, this has taken a bit of time for me to write. Even longer to publish. 3 weeks I think.. IT has taken me even longer to actual, well.. do. When I first came into relationship with darkdaughta, an anti-oppression, anti-authoritarian, sex positive, pro-choice, Black conscious, queer, feminist - I must have thought, ok, well - you have your way of thinking - and I haven't given much thought to my way of thinking or my place in the world, less being a straight Black man. I didn't really think about my class background or my relationship to sex..

Sure I had sex, responsibly and ethically - but did I actually understand sex in all of it's complexities .. in a word? No.

Nor did I feel I needed to. I was Seminalson. I have learned everything there is to know about everything, and what was darkdaughta going to teach me? ...right... lol...

I also understood her as a threat. A threat to my familiar, limited, conservative life I like to hold on to. I still struggle with how much she loves me... is she actually laughing at me?

No of course not.

Check out

one of my other posts

to see how I express my upset sometimes in our relationship.

I grew up in a very sex negative house. My mother, confirms this. I thought it was normal for no one to ever speak about sex in my household growing up. As a matter of fact, I can honestly say that not until my early twenties did I even hear the world orgasm come out of my father's mouth - and it wasn't orgasm - he said: orgasmoo.

Actually, that's pretty telling isn't it.

He was definitely not comfortable with the word at all in front of me. I have never really thought about it b4. No, that's not true, either.

I have journal entries dating back 3 years that went into my parents messed up stuff - around sexuality.
I have journal entries about me at age 11 having kissed another boy, also 11. The silence that came from my parents, the (when looking back now) odd questions that came out of that. As darkdaughta has pointed out many times and the facilitator in my men's group has also said: they made an exploration with another boy some kind of horrible event, one in which I should sweeped under the rug and never talked about ever again, not even for any reason. At this crucial age - I felt completly lost, and it was left to me to find my own answers - to parent myself.

Compounding this was another troubling incident. My older brother found out about this whole exploration I had. You know, he was already making my young life misreable, but from that day forward - he made it his mission to terrorize and humiliate me.

I wonder what life would have been like if I had been allowed to not feel shame around this natural exploration and just been allowed to continue to live a normally ... these years of shame definitely would / have affect dealing with stinkapee and the baby that's coming. This is some of the work I agreed to tackle in being in relationship with darkdaughta. I said I understood that she was not a straight lady: trained and programmed to settle for whatever I had to offer in terms of relationship. How was she suppose to build with any man - without that man doing some personal work? And as I type this - she is 100 percent right. But don't be fooled... I spend much of my time (for the past 5 years) in a cocky, arrogant state - where nothing she is saying is going into my brain. I have to be right, right, right... It is patriarchal, it's brutish.. and it engrained in my head. How arrogant am I to think that accepting/ embracing patriarchy was going to be ok with darkdaughta adn inside Azania.

I know where much of this comes from - and we've talked about it. But it this talking about it - and my non-action that is the energy drain. It drains and drains and drains. It has been a soul killer for darkdaugtha to struggle on a daily basis with me about this stuff. But this is me writing about it now.

But I feel like I've been stuck in a loop, a loop where darkdaughta suggests I look at material that could help provide a frame of how I'm feeling - I agree - but I get scared. It needs to happen in my timeline, and at the same time I know that my timeline includes the very real lives of Stinkapee and the next baby - to safe guard their childhood and place in the world as little people, so that they can grow safely into mature, sexually healthy adults.

My timeline also includes my very real life and the commitments I made in being in relationship with darkdaugtha.

At the beginning of this, I talked about who darkdaughta is. I have chosen to not sit with the choices she has made - in relation to partnering with a straight, middle/class, sexuallly conservative (actually repressed/oppressed) individual.

I hold my head in the emotional weight of what I've written here. Darkdaughta made a choice, a choice that also had to do with love, trust and alliance building. I made a choice. To love responsibly and ethically and to welcome challege. This could not be more clear now, as other folks in our intentional community have made very clear choices to reneg on their commitments.

But my oath, came before Azania, and I actually started doing the work even b4 Azania was formed. I felt alone during this early stage. Darkdaughta would say to me, suggest to me the tools to build up supports to deal with some of this stuff. But, in truth, I did not want to deal with it. I think I wanted it because the confusion and pain were familiar. I am still like this, even though I am trying to move from here.

Even with a wealth of conversation; books and on-line access - I refused to have sex with darkdaughta in the beginning of her pregnancy with Stinkapee (this over 4 years ago). As I write this, I wonder if this was about the resent I felt with her for being pregnant. I think I was really confused and overwhelemd, and performing the 'everything's fine' line - but really just feeling confused. It wasn't simple resent, there was more. I didn't think of myself as as worthy of having a secure and healthy life, including a sexual partner.

In fact, I spent 9 years in partnership with a woman who I was attracted to (throughout highschool and part of secondary school) but we would never engage in anything sexual

I understood myself as not worthy enough. And I definitely had skin colour internalized racism in me - which said: she's South asian, 'pretty', (or what I understood as 'pretty' in a society that has stratified people of the world via their nose shape, skin shade, etc) She paid attention to me, but honestly I thought it was because I was useful in some way. And I was, I kept other boys, and men away and this she wanted. I was good enough to be used as a tool.

This reminds me of my relationship with Bongafish, and how complex and layered our relationship is and was. Part of my relationship with Bongafish was her using me to mask the fact that she was queer. With me by her side, she was assured safe passage thru Black middle class spaces.

So, back to the present. Darkdaughta and I are polyamorous. If I so chose, and it is properly negoitated I can sleep with anyone I wish and have. No matter, because I choose in my head that women aren't attracted to me; they see something off about me. They'll laugh at me, and run way. I'll be made fun of. As I write this, I am saying to myself: that won't happen. That's a script in your head.

I am partnered to the most dynamic, experimental, beautiful, ethical, courageous, woman I have met - but I don't really value this. IT just sounds good. She wanted to teach me things. I've been so wounded and bruised growing up, I just wanted to be the leader, the knower of all things sexual. After all, it is not like there is more to know after you're sixteen right? WRONG.

By refusing to look at my past, ignoring her requests, and totally and completely ignoring my own soul which is trying to heal - I have rejected what I claim to want - a healthy physical relationship with darkdaughta. Why would she want to sleep with a partner who reneged on his agreements - while at the same time reserving the right to blame her for all of this. And in fact, whan I blame darkdaugtha for all my problems - it fits because thenI can say - ah ya.. you're not attracted to me! You won't touch me! And I hate you for not just going along with whatever I want.
Now those are familiar voices. I need them to go.

And they are with the help of the supports I am finally putting into place.
This post to be expanded, so check back when you can.

HAVING FEELINGS FOR PHOENIXFISH...

I told Phoenixfish that I would like to build with her, within the context of Azania - that I care for her, love her...

It felt scary talking to her about my dreams for Azania given that I experienced her to want to destroy it, dismantle it, step on it and harm it. But, I actually felt good sharing space with her. We talked about our attractions, and what it would mean to actually forge ahead. I think we're doing well, I think we're moving in a direction I never thought was possible. Much more to coming ...

Crying, Yelling, Screaming, Stomping ... being touched and held ... by men ... WHAT??!

A snipett from my men's emotional group... during this session, this was the first time I actually totally vulnerable with men in a safe environment. Ever. Blows my mind!
I CAN STILL SEE Don's face, way too close to mine with one hand supporting my back, one hand on my heart. I lock eyes with him, and he says to me: "what do you feel now? what do you want to do?" eyes staring right at me. I can feel his care for me like the strong breeze swirling around me. "I want to run... I want to get the f#ck outta here... so I'm going to stay" "Good" says Paul, the lead facilitator - eyes and emotions matching the intensity of Don.

I stay.

Water runs down my face and...

WATCH THAT TONE! you're just too loud darkdaughta...

THIS YEAR darkdaughta and I will celebrate 6 years of knowing each other. And through all of this time, we have laughed, cried, explored and struggled. And thru all of this time, a consistant theme has been running as I watch and support her move thru the world, head held up, speaking from her toes, and being vocal with surity and confidence. That theme is fear. How can she possibly be so well spoken and confident people wonder. Must destroy, Must destroy, Must destroy.. the actions that soon follow. By the way: this is b4 they know her politic etc.

People fear her. Community members fear her.
And so, most people don't want to feel fear in relation to her - and so a process called elimination begins. I have been watching this. I have actively blocked against it/ and supported darkdaughta in blocking non-allies. But it's a lot.

In fact, (as I leave for work now) I think about how my sheilds are (almost slways up) when we meet and engage with anyone new. Many times I support darkdaughta in not interactng at all - cause sense she is going to speak the truth - when it is necessary... well... lets just say - the truth is not welcome in many cases in the real world.

More to come...

I LIKE MY COUNSELLOR yes... i do.

YESTERDAY I WENT TO MY MEN'S EMOTIONAL group and today I saw another great ally: my counsellor. She is a fantastic individual who not only listens but also feels when I talk to her. And I can see her feeling. And she encourages me to feel. She is honest in her delivery, in her conversation, and she is quite straight forward. I like that. And I like her. I mentioned my men's emotional group here because there is a piece of me that thinks I am being self indulgent in doing all of this personal work. Am I really taking all this time to do this? Who the hell am I to do this? And how in the christ can I afford it.. cause it sure as hell ain't free... For those of you wondering: some people prioritize smokes, alcohol, drugs, clubbing, really fancy shoes, expensive cars etc, in their lives. And that's their choice. My priority is my personal healing work. I figure, whatever else will come.

So, today, I saw my counsellor and we talked about a number of things. I told her about seeing my brother, todeboy, when I was over at my folks on Sunday. Moving thru the fear and upset I have in relation to my memories with todeboy, I simply came right up to him and said hi. He seemed surprised, even a little off kilter. And so, he fired: so, you know SO&SO? I don't know who you're talking about" I quipped.

"Sure, you know, his daughter goes to the same daycare as stinkapee" he probed.
Now, I know the person he is talking about is not a friend, and he is only bringing this up to make me uncomfortable. The person he is talking about is a coward who tired to get information from about our family (probably to gossip) from Bongafish. It was a day when she was at the school without myself, or darkdaughta or any other community member. He intentionally went to her for information - he had never once approached me about my brother. - but he did ask about him through Bongafish.

Now, months later... stinkapee doesn't attend the school (not daycare) he's referring too, but I wasn't about to engage in conversation about that. When Toteboy he informed me that I knew this person, because the person also knew another mutual acquaintance - Wil - I redirected the conversation by asking him about Wil, a person I know Todeboy he doesn't like or understand.

More later...

rePARENTING FIELD TRIP: It's time to move back in with my folks... kinda...

OKAY, so I'm not exactly going to move in with them, I'm simply going on an intentional field trip. You see, I've been trying (for a while now) to move away from always being in reaction when I come from my folks. Actually, with any bio-family really. Thing is, as I've said in other posts, I end up getting triggered; can't deal with it and take it out on my chosen family - the family that supports me, cares about me, loves me.

And so, I'm preparing to propose an intentional visit to my old family home, MONROVIA, to really move through some of this stuff. Now, as I type this, I think to myself, what am I going to do to prep?
Am I going to ground? What can I expect to happen? All of this I pretty much know the answers too. Let's get started...

Part 2 - CRYING & MOVING THROUGH THE FEAR:I don't think I've cried enough this week (or this year)

THE WATER runs down my face, over the folds, around my nose and slips into my mouth. It's salty, and I'm shaking. I'm stiff and rubbing my legs. My breathing, at first is shallow, then becomes deep. I want to curl up into a ball and wrap my arms around my legs in a fetile position. This is me at 11 after an afternoon of humiliation and terror at the hands of brother.

This is also me in my counsellor's office at 27. Right now there are voices in my head that are saying: what are you doing writing this down? Are you crazy? Someone's gonna see. Then I remind myself, someone needs to see...

So please: SEE! SEE! SEE!

I see my counsellor once a week - an intense, grounding and healing experience where I can just.. be. I never thought I would ever get to the point with a counsellor that I would be okay to have emotional release with one.

The first counsellor I had was unemotional. I know this sounds strange, but you have to understand, I had wasn't really in touch with myself, and darkdaughta, who had been encouraging me for some time to see someone, was glad I was talking to a person about my stuff - besides, well, her.

At first seeing her worked out ok. She in the very least, made me ask questions of myself, andbecause of her own confusion and discomfort with who I am, and what it actually didi to her world view- made me articulate on an ongoing basis my life choices, my feelings about the world, and my justification for my choices. She got me to talk about who I am not because she was really interested, but more because of she didn't fully understand me as a complex, multi-layered person.

Sessions with her also felt like a real client/practitioner relationship, and I didn't feel any connection with her. This is in great contrast to my current counsellor. I see now that the unemotional way of being of my first counsellor was at the core of why we didn't establish a real connection, and was crucial to why I never opened myself up to her.

In one of my recent sessions I was speaking to my inner child.

I see him.

He was about 11, and he had just been thrown to the floor and beaten up by his older brother. The little boy doesn't move. He is just frozen in the corner, humiliated, defeated, and terrified.
I don't call out to him because he is already self conscious and or embarrassed at having been slapped around like a rag doll, and thrown to the ground like trash waiting to be taken out to the dump.

But am I just playing out a role here? Do I just leave him, cause that is what I understand in terms of boys/men and healing.

Something feels off.

I offer my inner child an extension. Not a physical one, but a voice. I talk in my session about what he is feeling, and thinking as a lies there, on the kitchen floor.

'Can someone help me?', he’s saying in his head. He knows no one is in the house.

He is waiting and wondering what will happen next. He not sure if he should move. Maybe if I’m still… I’ll vanish or blend into the surroundings.

Stomp. Stomp. Stomp.

My inner child hears the heavy feet of my abuser walk up the stairs of the family home. Sound thundering creeks and stomps are upstairs, as shivers roll up my spine.

Then,

STOMP, STOMP, STOMP, STOMP.

Down the stairs he comes and approaches. I sit, still in front of a cupboard that he wants access to. He proceeds to open the drawer as though I am not there, banging my head against the drawer until I move. He does not speak.

But I do.

I remember these lines well:
'You fu*king piece of sh*t, you want me to be scared of you, I'm not scared of you, I feel sorry for you' he shouts/ I shout at his/my brother. Everyone in this family hates you, you’re weak, that’s why you bully me, and I hope you roast in hell..’

These biting words were meant to sting like the physical trauma he caused. I was scared, but I wasn’t going to let me have all of me.

He glared at me, eyes open in shock. He went back upstairs yelling at me, ‘Shut-up! Shut-up! SHUT up!’

Presentday- Here, I break down. An uncontrollable stream of tears and sounds pour out of me.

Good, I re-assure myself, the supportive voices of my intentional family/community, counsellor and men's group in my head.

I take a deep breath.

I'VE GOT 4 CHILDREN! not yet, but this would be nice

I HAD a call from Iann, a man I was introduced to a couple of years back by my musician friend Dean. Iann was starting a new career at mutual fund company and called me up wanting me to participate in a practice survey he had to do as part of his qualifying round.
At first I felt like, "so he's calling me to talk work... we've had conversation about kids and family etc. why is he calling me abut work. Then I remembered, I had his number too - but I never called. Why was that?
And besides, men rarely reach out to talk about emotional stuff...
Even if he wanted to link up, it would have to be founded in business so he didn't seem to 'soft'.
With his kids screaming in the background (not really screaming so much as being alive, alert and excited) I thought to myself - what nice sounds... sounds of developing minds, emotions, voices...

Was this me... Did I think this... me the downtown, night/clubing... man about town...?
Oh Yes! but...

I thought I could hear this papi apologize for all the noise in the background, but it was really just me projecting. I think, inside the conversation, I actually got triggered to when stinkapee (my daughter) was a baby and my THEN business partner was engaging with a fragile, isolated, me. That person, as well as many of my early friends weren't 'supportive' of babies in the background. They were numb.
I resent feeling like a ever had to put stinkapee in the background. Or
I resent feeling like children should have to be quite, behave, or perform when I'm doing something 'important'.

Anyway, as I sat in the conversation, I thought about how I enjoyed hearing the voices in the background. I enjoyed imagining what stinkapee might sound like at 9. I enjoyed the connection on the phone with another dad. I told him so too. He seemed genuinely taken aback by my honestly, and welcomed an invitation over the house (kids in tow) to hang out and be...
I look forward to it.

Part 1 - I MUST KEEP GOING - as i strive to move through the fear ...

MY EXPERIENCE in my men's emotional group this week was layered. Again I felt scared and uncomfortable. I came in feeling excited that I had shared my blog with Don and Paul and at the same time nervous... what would they think? I have a lot of scripts in my head around 'judgement'- that I am trying to work through.

One of the things that stuck out for me in the group was when they were relaying their own experiences, feelings, current worries etc. As they would speak, I would go into this other place that was like:
am I really here?
Are these guys that I'm bonding with really 20-25 years older than I am?
Is one of them really gay?
and more importantly.. am I identifying with him?..
and what does that mean...

I'll tell you what it means. It means throughout my life I've been lied to. I've been cheated. Out of years of possibilities, of connection.. of building full and phenominal relationships with men in a very important way... responsibly.

But it is not all flowers and candy... I very nearly blocked the whole process. What happened for me is what I'll write about next.

I'LL JUST LET STINKAPEE DEAL WITH IT: my plan for dealing with the new baby being a boy child [instead of dealing with my inner one]

I SIT at the computer, just minutes b4 I leave for work. I feel aweful. On one hand I'm blogging, and seemingly working things thru in my head. But, all of this time has come at great expense to my relationship/ partnership withdarkdaughta. Yesterday, we were having a conversation about the baby, which, after darkdaughta's questioning revealed my insecurities about being a male caregiver, protector, papi2. More signinficant though, yesterday for the millionth time revealed my continued feeling of contempt at being questioned by darkdaughta; even while claiming her questioning is crucial for m growth and I love her for it. As I write this, I feel like I am describing a crazy person. It has been like this for years. Things aren't going well.. and so now...

Much more to come

PROCESSING:how it became a dirty word in our intentional community

First and foremost, b4 I begin writing this piece, I have to say that I apologize darkdaughta, not for ridicious behaviour - but for not posting in a more timely manner. I for one should and do understand that silence can be and usually is the kiss of death when people are participating in difficult conversations which are not glazed over wtih nicities. The following post is about the community in which I am apart of, Azania. Please read my partner's post called Coming Out, so you have full context.

Azania is still a dream I still believe in. It may not happen in my lifetime - although I like to think that it can because of the movement I have made. I quite agree with darkdaughta's opinion that we may be some of the most dazzling and articulate Black folk you'll (n)ever have the chance to meet. In conversation with my mother I talked with her about Black people's concept of conversation and or processing and/or negoitating. Specifically, I don't come from a family or community culture of conversation around feelings and emotions.

In Azania, an intentional community queer urban matriarchy, where building family/community specifically meant having processing conversations, engaging in peer counselling, being accountable to one's feelings, and being fully present in the day-to-day operations of two large residences, I was like: what the hell? You don't really expect me to do that. I'm a man.

More accurately, I would engage in strategic conversation, make minor movements, but then revert to my learned behaviours of my child/teen/adult years as taught via my parents, family and community. That's another blog entry.

One difference though would have to be that unlike the other members of Azania who had language learned in feminist environments and in women's community, some of who had a history of counselling - I did not. So, I could not word-smith or side-step direct questions from darkdaughta if she challenged me when I didn't do my personal work.

Still, I refused to develop deep/consistant relationship building conversation with the other collective members, even though darkdaughta had demonstrated what this could look like by supporting my relationships and friendships with others including women I introduced to her. She would often, help me choose my clothes, remind me to take some condoms and send me off to socialize on my own. She wasn't worried about me not coming back, I always did - what she didn't like was how surly I was when I didn't go out for a night on the town/ dancing/ attention seeking.

She was clear and I knew that after being out on the town, I was a happy man, and any woman I introduced to her, she gave full support towards. In fact, even when I wasn't coming from a place of being an ethical slut, that is - fully negiotating relationship, darkdaughta and I talked about it. Here, I'm referring to me standing darkdaughta up on New Year's Day...when Tigana was not even a month old...

I need to remember to ground in that one.

In fact, at the beginning of our relationship, we talked, read and inhaled info on polyamory together. But did I really take it in? - I think grazed. By the way, b4 anyone jumps to my defense, [that usually happens to the patriarchally colonized folk who don't question anything around them] I'm once again putting it out there that it's healthy for me to write, and I know my context at the time, when I did what I described here. That is not an excuse.

And what's more? When darkdaughta became envolved with her (now ex-) girlfriend, biafrakrunk I decided to not actively try and build a relationship with her - a sad statement when you think about how committed darkdaughta was to me exploring away from our relationship. God, as I write this, I'm starting to hunch over a little.

I think the truth of the matter is that I ignore, choose to turn off my gut, even when I know what I'm doing is wrong.

SO THERE ARE PEOPLE OUT THERE: Greetings Rat Boy

I'm just getting used to this whole blog thing. It has given me some hope that I will eventually link up with interesting people, men who want to think, build, and explore in a climate that would have us sleep, knock-down, and stagnate. Greetings to Rat Boy's Anvil. Clicking through your site I came across Hube's articule who about Closeted Athletes. The note about Ed Gallagher, a 1980's offensive linesmen who tried to commit suicide because "he was unable to reconcile his own image of himself as an athlete with gay urges." I found very significant, - even today. Yes, we men have a long way to go...thanks for the mention, Rat Boy.

I'M A FRAGILE BEING: touch in my men's group

I SAT at my Men's Emotional Group tonight and felt happy when I arrived. I talked about feeling overjoyed at having begun the process of confronting my family. Last week it was my brother. This week, we had no agenda. We don't usually have an agenda. Sessions usually start by a 'checkIN', that is, literally a go-around, where everyone talks about how they are feeling in their body (ie. my neck feels tight, there is a knot in my lower back) Then each of us talks about what went on in the past day or two in our lives.

One of the facilitators, Don, talked about being moved by my check in. He remarked that he felt inspired by my excitement. And excited I was and am. In the psycho-dramatic theatre I did last week - the spin off effects have left me with a feeling hope/liberation/and celebration. I walk taller, and spoke more powerfully - fully present in my voice and emotion.

I said that I wanted to achieve more of this, understanding that progress is a process.

It is strange for me to say that, cause I don't value process. I say I do, but really...I don't. I want everything right away. Slowly, that's changing though. But need to be careful not think that the gift I recieved in my sessions will come every week. I'm trying to grasp that everything takes time.

You know, it's funny, cause everything I've been taught says that if I want to feel good, or I want to feel special, or solid in myself - that is all attainable via: the right car, the right house, the right clothes, the right friends, the right stuff.

And though, I knew on an intellectual level that that wasn't the case - it really wasn't until the end of last week's session did I really FEEL the emotional (& crucial) power of counselling work. It is liberation. Period.

In this session, D said a lot was happening for him and asked P for support. Support looked like D sitting in between P legs while P put his hand on D's chest. D's back was against P's chest and stomach. P's head was above D's head, while P's arms were wrapped around him.

I thought: I gotta go. I have to get out of here. So ... I stayed.

Intellectually, it all made sense. One human being wanting care, and another one willingl to give it.

But they were men.

D had been talking about career issues, stuff about his wife, and a general feeling of uneasiness. He articulated that he wanted touch - and even spoke to his fear of judgement from P and myself. He said he was frustrated around ignoring his feminine side, and not giving it equal weight as his masculine side.

I commented (while saying I wanted to GET THE HELL OUTTA THERE, but not actually doing so) that I was tired of those descriptions/expressions - masculine or feminine. What was considered feminine was beaten out of me at home, and that beating was reinforced mentally/ psychically in the outside world, simply by so-called everyday unemotional interactions between men.

Going to the group is like entering another dimension. I really believe in my lovership/partnership with DD. She has pushed me further than anyone probably could, or ever will. She infuses my success at everything and I will never forget this. Her support in my development have let allowed me to trust P and D.

They have encouraged me to grow and expand. They are at least 15 years my senior, and are white. P is a counsellor, is gay [I just put my head in my hands and started to fall asleep on the work station in my house. B, a collective family member just encouraged me to keep writing through my feelings and to not stop - even to describe what I was doing in the moment] [... 30seconds past.. I started to stare off into space again...]D is construction worker and printer, and is straight.

Ok, I definitely had a reaction to me seeing a P, a gay man. It is definitely my stuff around being called queer, fag, whatever growing up. I flash to being a child, and not an adult - and then think, so: what will people think? I take a deep breath.. watch the world around me, remembering it is present day, - not 1987.

Here is some more of what I was thinking and saying in the group:

What they hell am I witnessing? How am I in this setting the three of us being so completely different. Was I going to use our difference to stop me from growing emotionally? This doesn't mean pretending those artificial societal lines don't exist. I'm not saying that. But I have a responsibility to myself to not allow stuff to block my work..
I'm not suppose to be in a room with two men getting support from each other. My model for relationship between 2 men is: my horrible abusive relationship with my brothers, from the past. And so, at play for me was: me wanting to run. But where would I run. I can't run away from my own heart, soul, discomfort.

And, I remember. I remember the feeling I had after the confrontation with my brother. I remember the trust I built up with these two men. And so, I forged ahead.

I watched D receive touch on his body, touch that answered some of this pain, some of his confusion, some of the knots in his frame. I listened to D, as he spoke up feelings of homophobia, and unmanliness. I felt relieved. Glad he brought that up. It had crossed my mind. But after he spoke it, I thought and spoke about how that we men get totally shut down. That's how we stay shells. That's how we don't receive what our bodies need as human beings, regardless of gender: to be nurtured. And for me, it is especially significant from other men specially because I've spent my entire childhood, teen years, and adulthood up to now only understanding nurturing touch from another man as something mythical.. and really an impossibility.

I wanted something different now. And last night, I asked for it.

D had has shifted positions way from P, and the two of them were facing each other. I was right beside them, and at this point, I had my hand on D's hand.

My back started to ache, and my neck got a little stiff. With my hand on D's hand, I spoke to feelings of wanting to leave at first, while at the same time drawing closer to the two men. I breathed in, and then breathed out.

I looked at the two of them in the eyes. Earlier D had a tear in his eye. I chose to register this now. Fuck!, whow brave both D and P were.

I took another deep breath, felt my abdomen feel, and exhaled slowly. I opened my mouth, shifted or flexed my jaw muscles and ... hesitated.. and them spoke...

"Could you please put your hands on my back."

P and D paused. Their answer was yes. D put his hand on my back, it felt like a relief. Like I had an open wound was leaking fluid all over the place and his hand was helping to keep it together...

I sat face to face, holding P's hands. The room was quite, and still. It was scary. It was fantastic. It was beautiful. My body was doing something. I'm not sure what, but something was happening.

P brought his forehead to meet mine as I closed my eyes.

"oh my god, what is going on" I remember thinking. this can't be. But it is. And it was crucial.

D asked if I was ok if he put his other hand on my heart. I quickly said, "yes." More to come...

CONFRONTING A PIECE OF MYSELF: the other twist in confronting my brother

As I write this, I know that I'm short on time. At any point stinkapee could wake up and usually she wants to hang put b4 I go to work. Write, .. Write.

So, at my last session with my men's group, I was feeling really and particularly wound up. I mean, it has just been a few weeks since I found out that darkdaughta was carrying a boy - although I have known for quite some time that she was pregnant. Well, I've known from the start really.

But when the facilitators of the group asked me to check in to see how I was feeling (as we do every week), I started to recount the horrible time my brother had created for me when stinkapee was in darkdaughta's belly and [oh stinkapee's up ... back in when i can...]

I always, or at least some of the time- trying and stay grounded in how much my partner has juggled to make our life together run. Stinkapee being in her arms while she typed, had meetings, cooked, went to appointments, etc... I need to remember this, b4 I think of myself as super dad.

Anyway, back to my confrontation - they asked me if I was interested in confronting my brother, and wanted to know what I'd say. At first I thought I wasn't too interested. What am I going to do, talk to them... are they suppose to stand in for him? Isn't that giving my brother too much time and space.

Well, by the end of it, I had achieved so much, that I can't wait to share my feelings about the process. I'm off to work now, so I'll have to continue this later.

[Well, I've returned from the "plantation"]...
It's about 9 o'clock...

It wasn't giving my brother too much space at all. At first I thought it was though. I was really scared. They say it's called psycho-dramatic theatre. All I know is that I felt really small play "him" in role. Not in the act of doing it, but because in my head he was there, I was tiggered back to an earlier me, and felt indimidated.

I talked to him and I said (oh, if you're reading this and wanting some context - feel free to go to my posting called "Off to my men's group" on my first site: Hipdaddy which will give you some back story about my brother and I. [One of them at least. Another entry about my other brother is to come.] In fact, me and brothers, and how that has shaped my relationship with men in general is to come. So much is to come.

Back to how I felt: scared. What in the hell was I doing in this room/ at this centre with 40 something and fifty something men, telling them about my feelings. Who are they, and why do I trust them? I came in / and continue to come in - wanting to be able to feel on the regular basis. When I was around my brother(s), I had to be stone because I was always attacked. And when I wasn't attacked I was humiliated. And then I just stopped talking to them altogether.

I also felt like I had no voice in my family home growing up. I was/ am the youngest, grew up being told I was inferior, but made up stories/and characters to fortify myself. The stories helped me actually gain an understanding myself as superior to my older brothers. Even when they were beating me up, I had my lies I could tell myself to either 1) pretend it wasn't happening or 2)tell them verbally that I knew that they were weak and that was the only reason they were attempting to terrorizing me. [This wasn't a lie] But I still I felt ripped apart. And I've been walking around with those feelings all along. I walk around with those feelings now. In fact, as I write this, the side of my head hurts, my eyes are starting to burn and I feel like I need to yell, and scream. I feel like I need to have a tantrum. It's better I recognize this now, and release it - rather than do my usual bottle it up and get into an argument with my 4 YEAR OLD, or doing something passive aggressive to my partner.

up next... how I gave darkdaughta "The Tode" the next day AND what my tantrum looks like...

SO DADDY, WILL YOU DANCE WITH YOUR SON?

Walking through Kensington Market today stinkapee, darkdaughta and I were walking along, and it was a good day. It was an exciting day...hell it was 12C and January (or for you Americans reading this (50F). Music was on, people were shopping and the sun was shining. Anyway, we were relaxed and taking in the air and I thought of an earlier time, last summer when it was just stinkapee and I walking through the busy, electic market.
That time we stopped in front of a cafe, where a band was playing and stinkapee wanted to dance. Without hesistating, I took her up on it. We swirled and laughed and sang and played, and generally had a great time. People around us liked our dosplay of emotion/closeness.
When I got home, I relayed the great time to darkdaughta and she was happy stinkapee and I had a good time out. She then invited me to think about what was going on for me when I was dancing with stinkapee. I was like: What do you mean, "what's going on for me?"

I always tell darkdaughta that one of the reasons I love her so much is that she challenges me to think and to grow, and that's woven into her love. In fact, much if not all of our relationship is built around continual growth and challenging / discovering / each other. Some might say this is basically: "living against the grain". Curious about darkdaughta? visit her blog by clicking here. Anyway, she said to me: well, we are gonna have more kids, and so, what would happen if you had a boy child. Would you be so quick to up and dance with your son?

I gave her one of those.. "wow.. that is something to think about" answers. I certainly saw what she was talking about, and of course knew that not dancing with my son would be off. But, I'm here to talk, not theorize, about how I feel.

So, thinking about my childhood, what men do, what I believe men/father's do...
Here are my thougths... "what will this teach the boy child?" dancing in the street - with his father... I surely didn't get this when I was small and with my dad. What does quality time mean for a Black man/ a Black man with a child/ a Black boy child. What does it really mean? Does it mean making sure he knows about sport? Does it mean making sure he knows his Black history or all the "great men" who invented this and created that... Does it mean .. I'll stop asking these questions now.

Just the fact that I'm writing a piece about "dancing with my son" means how fucc'd up my head is with masculinity and patriarchal ideals that have been railroaded into my head over the course of my life... god, I'm almost 30. There is a climate right now that has Black men performing such a heightened masculine existence, that when i wear anything outside of the current hiphop uniform, I can feel eyes on me like: "ok, what's he doing?"

Watching hiphop videos from the early/mid eighties, I can see the men wearing colours, tights, flares, whatever.. and make no mistake, I'm not saying that those artists where progressive, or questioning their own masculinity, but it certainly wasn't like today's climate/ society which basically means wearing Black or some non-coloured clothing as a requirement of being manly in Black culture. "Wouldn't wanted to be precieved as ... wait for it... GAY!

I'm being coy here but you know what, that is what goes through my mind. I've had lots of time to (all of my childhood/ teen years/ early adulthood) to ...
I know like like well .. in what i grew up with. The above observation was brought to my attention after I was commenting on music videos today and their aesthetic.

Maybe what I need to do is ask what it means for me. I have questions in my head like, who am I do be raising a boy child?

OKAY THIS WHOLE BOY THING REALLY STARTING TO SINK IN...
Sure, I have lots of fears around what in the hell I'm going to do raising/ co-parenting a boy child. So much of my childhood was swirled with abuse and humiliation at the hands of my troubled, sadistic brothers - that my foundation for close relationships with boys is .. well.. really screwed up. Up until I was about 23, I actually thought it was kind of normal. Or at least, I thought, me pretending everything was cool (when it was so apparent that it wasn't ) was normal.

My partner darkdaughta says to me, even now: some of the battles you get into with stinkapee seem really sibling like. She's right. I have a lot of unpacking to do around my brothers, unpacking that I think I may have given myself permission to put, on hold - because - of course, there are all of these "things" that need to get done. I'm not sure what... but by George (or Frankie, or Eddie), they need to get done.

In my mens group last week, we reenacted (via psycho-drama, a new process for me, by the way) an argument between a group member and his wife. Afterwards he had a tantrum, and it was quite amazing. (More on my emotional reaction to this later) The week b4, the group supported me to have a tantrum too, so I kind of new what to expect.

I think I would like to do some kind of psycho-drama tonight. I'm not sure what part of my abuse I'm good re-creating. But, I don't think of it as re-creating abuse. I think it as speaking to it, massaging the memories, and working through them. I've done denial for a long time. You know, when darkdaughta and I first met, or rather in the first couple of months of seeing each other, she asked me: how was your childhood? And I said: Great! I travelled, went to over-night camps, played with friends, why do you ask? She seemed surprised by my answer because it was devoid of any memories of actual engagements with my brothers. She noted though, her engagments with me, while loving and playful, were charged with something that was 'off'. A venom which was meant for my abusers, but instead put on to her. In some ways, it still is. See the earlier postings on hipdaddy.

At any rate, how do I plan on loving/caring for/ safe-guarding/teaching/ a boy child without doing some major work on myself now. It's not possible (without him being endanger). I think about my relationship with stinkapee, and how I didn't grow up with sisters, and so she probably doesn't trigger me as much as having a boy child. But she does trigger me, and more on that coming later too.

But my patriarchial beliefs mean that I have been programmed in society to protect "daddy's little girl", in ways which I would never protect the baby. Gezz, I wasn't even to big on this being his name because I thought it wasn't manly enough. Talk about flying in the face of the work I say I want to do to re-parent myself, and the work my partner lives and breaths. As I continue to re-parent...

BOY oh BOY...
I'm going to off to my mens group tomorrow. I find it really amazing that i even have a mens group to go to. At this point, the group is small, but it is such a revolutionary place for me. This coming late Spring or early Summer, my partner will be having another child. I am very excited, and at the same time, scared and triggered because this child, yes this child is going to be a boy.

I'm really interested in creating the kind of world I was denied when growing up. This does not mean, reserving the right to be really pissed off and just sit in my anger around all the people I grew up around. It means literally DOING something different, with the tools I have, right now. And so... here comes, seminal son.