Release Therapy :: Blake Von D

Dec 17, 2011

BATTLE OF THE SEXES: Vanessa vs. Kobe

Unless you spent the last 6-8 hours under a rock on an undiscovered planet in a distant galaxy, you know that the entire worldwide web was in a frenzy over the impending divorce of Kobe & Vanessa Bryant. And just like anything else, the issue soon turned into a battle of the sexes. You had the men on one side offering explanations like, “No man can think straight when his d*** is hard.” or “Any woman who wants half is a gold digger.” To which the women quickly responded with, “Child please. She deserves every single penny.”

Well here’s my take.

First off, let me start by saying this is not a male vs. female issue for me. It’s about right vs. wrong. If Oprah decided tomorrow to marry Stedman, didn’t make him sign a pre-nup and then went out and had wild groupie sex with half of Chicago…”Oprah, say goodbye to half your money. Stedman, congratulations on being stupid filthy rich.” Period. Now, I know some of you will say, “Blake, how is that even justifiable? No one deserves half.” Perhaps you’re right, but bottom line…I don’t make the rules, I just follow them. If the law says that without a pre-nup the wronged party gets half, then so-f*ckin’-be it. Don’t like it? Write your congressman.

But let’s really break this issue down.

Definition of a Gold Digger

Last time I checked my ghetto handbook a gold digger was defined as a female who dates and/or marries a man for the SOLE purposes of making a come up. I’m talking pin pricks to the Magnum and a whole lot of homie hopping in order to land her own low-budget Warren Buffett. Nowhere in that definition does it say, “She met him in high school when he wasn’t [technically] worth a red penny  & back when most people thought Kobe was nothing more than a cut of beef.” I know what you’re saying, “Blake, she saw the potential. She knew what she was doing.” Maybe she did, maybe she didn’t. But let’s be clear…potential is just that—potential. It is in no way a guarantee. Mike Jones had potential and well…WHO?!

I don’t think anyone will argue with the fact that at some point Vanessa and Kobe were two teenage kids who genuinely loved each other. It just so happened that as fate would have it, one of them went on to become a basketball superstar worth millions of dollars. Which leads me to my next point…

No Pre-Nup? No Nookie!

Eve said it best, “Love is blind.” Love had Kobe so blind that he must have completely blacked out when his attorney was down on his hands and knees begging and pleading with him to make Vanessa sign a pre-nup…because you KNOW it happened. His mama told him. His coaches told him. His boys told him. Hell, I’m sure his 3rd grade teacher phoned in with a, “Did I teach you nothing about dollars and cents?!” But nooooo, no, no, no, no. Did Kobe listen? Of course not. He was in love. Fast forward 10 years and I gua.ran.tee you Kobe wishes to GOD he had listened. But the reality is…he didn’t. That being said, here’s how I see it. There is not a single piece of a** walking planet Earth that could convince me to risk half of my hard earned empire. You mean to tell me you would throw away MILLIONS of dollars for 10 minutes worth of “fun” & a visit to the clinic? ARE YOU FREAKIN’ KIDDING ME?! I guess it’s true what they say, men obviously don’t think with the head on their shoulders because no man with even half a brain could possibly do the math on that and still consider it a smart business move. Even if you don’t respect/love/give a damn about the person you’re with enough to keep it in your pants, at least have the good sense to do it for no other reason than to protect your money. Because if you’re dumb enough to risk it, I’m smart enough to take it. Period.

I’m sure Kobe had more than his fair share of NBA team owners taking him out to strip clubs, flying in women, even offering up their own wives…whatever it took to get him to sign on the dotted line. He knew the type of opportunities he would have at his disposal. If he didn’t think he could handle that, his choice was very clear…DON’T GET MARRIED!

Now let’s talk money…

Does she really deserve half? If you ask me, I say hell yes! Think about it. Remember that girl in high school who dated the star athlete? Everybody knew they were the “it” couple. They were voted most attractive and mostly likely to get married. That is until he cheated on her and the ENTIRE school knew about. The cafeteria staff were talking about it. The principle was even overheard expressing his shock and dismay. Keep in mind that this was before Facebook, before Twitter, before blogs, and back when “going viral” meant whatever you had wasn’t curable. The embarrassment that chick from high school felt doesn’t even compare to what Vanessa is likely experiencing right now. There is no saving face here. You just got played in front of the entire human species. Throw in the pain of childbirth, the resulting stretch marks, all the nights spent at home alone crying while some groupie was having a wild threesome with your husband and I’d say we’ve arrived at a figure that’s roughly about $45,890,670,349,603,490,560. 13. And since he doesn’t have that much…we’ll just settle at an even half.  I won’t even get into the deeper issue of violating the sanctity of marriage.

I say all this to say, Kobe—and those like him (male and female)—made a poor decision both as a husband and a from a business standpoint. Therefore, if I were Vanessa I would not lose a single ounce of sleep over taking his a** to the cleaners. Some of y’all will still call me a gold digger, spiteful or worse, but to that I say…”Can’t talk right now…I’m counting my money.”


Sep 20, 2011

I am Troy Davis

“One step forward, two steps back.” No better idiom describes my thoughts about today. On the very day that we breathe a sigh of relief over the abolishment of “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell”, it is also with a heavy heart that we stand at the doorway of gross miscarriage of justice.

September 21, 2011 at 7pm marks the fourth–and likely final–execution date for Troy Davis.

Troy Davis was convicted of murdering a Georgia police officer in 1991. Nearly two decades later, Davis remains on death row–even though the case against him has fallen apart. The case against him consisted entirely of witness testimony which contained inconsistencies even at the time of the trial. Since then, all but two of the state’s non-police witnesses from the trial have recanted or contradicted their testimony. Many of these witnesses have stated in sworn affidavits that they were pressured or coerced by police into testifying or signing statements against Troy Davis. One of the two witnesses who has not recanted his testimony is Sylvester “Red” Coles — the principle alternative suspect, according to the defense, against whom there is new evidence implicating him as the gunman. Nine individuals have signed affidavits implicating Sylvester Coles. - via Amnesty International.

I’m not here to argue his innocence. I am, however, standing on the principle that we should hold our justice system to the highest of standards. We should demand that it hold steadfast to the principles that it claims to promote. This morning millions of grade school aged children stood up, recited the Pledge of Allegiance and made an oath to “liberty and justice for all”. Tomorrow millions more will recite those exact words yet again. Yet, at 7pm that very same day, a lethal cocktail will course through the veins of a man who has seen anything but justice.

Edmund Burke once said, “All that is required for evil to prevail is for good men to do nothing.” Today it’s Troy Davis. Tomorrow it’s your brother, your uncle, your son. It’s YOU.

I urge those calling for his execution to consider the repercussions of such a demand. If we can allow a man who hasn’t been proven guilty beyond a reasonable doubt to be executed because it simply rids us of the problem, who’s to say what’s next? Should we execute people who we THINK will commit violent crimes in the future? Why not just do away with all of society’s nuisances all together. The mentally ill. The poor. The uneducated. O, and let’s not forget those of us with high melanin counts–because we all know the byproduct of being black is being a criminal. Seem extreme? Seventy years ago the idea of a Holocaust likely seemed extreme as well. Every heinous act of largescale proportions began with one single act of injustice. And as Dr. King so aptly put it, “An injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.”

My heart goes out to the family of Mark MacPhail, the officer who lost his life on that fateful day in 1989. No one should have to suffer the loss of a family member at the hands of malice. But shedding the blood of a potentially innocent man won’t prevent such horrors from happening in the future–it simply places a target on the backs of each and every one of us.

In solidarity with Troy Davis and as a stand against injustice, I’ll be wearing all black tomorrow. Will you join me?


Aug 19, 2011

My Open Letter: “Blake, You’ve Changed”

I try to keep things light and upbeat here, but every now and then I have to exercise a little catharsis. I recently had someone say to me–in a round about way–that I had changed (in a negative way). That I was “a bit much” for them. The comment hit me like a ton of bricks and I immediately took to my phone calling and texting some of my closest friends to get a 2nd, 3rd and 4th opinion. See, what I heard was, “Blake, you’re fake.” Fake has never been something that I’ve done very well. Quite honestly, there have actually been occasions when I thought that being so might actually get me closer to some of the things I want in life. But at the end of the day…what does it profit a man to gain the world and lose his soul?

At any given point in my life, I can always readily identify exactly what my hangups and flaws are, as I’ve always been a rather introspective person. Now, whether I’ll talk about them in that moment is another thing. It’s not usually until I’ve gotten over those hangups–and adopted new ones, no doubt–that I’m able to openly talk about them. That is why I’m able to openly & honestly share the fact that college for me was characterized by 4 years of immense insecurity and self-consciousness. It’s only been in the years post-college that I’ve been able to reap the benefits of years of my ‘pull yourself together’ talks and finally love the person that I see in the mirror. So when asking myself whether or not my actions could be read as “fake”, I had to answer, “Sure.” But only to those who either a) only knew me during college or b) never really knew me to start with.

The core of who I am is still the same. The packaging has changed, my name has changed and as a result of my newfound self-confidence, the way I interact with the people around me as changed. I’m no longer that girl comparing myself to every female who walks in the room…(most days). I’m no longer the overly self-conscious girl scared to be herself for fear that people wouldn’t like me. But most importantly, what I am now is the person I was always meant to me. To be honest, I have to question whether the people who see that as a negative thing were ever really in my corner in the first place.

I’d be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge that this person’s comment struck a cord with the insecure, little girl inside of me. For a brief moment, I felt like crawling back into my shell and being the person that it took me years to outgrow. But bottom line, I refuse to dim my light for those who think I’m shining too brightly. Get some shades or get over it! I love the person I’ve “changed” into and I’ll fight through hell and high water before I take even one single step back.


May 27, 2011

[Video] Rise Dark Girls!

I absolutely bawled watching this. Seeing and hearing the pain I feel being a “dark girl” in the eyes and voices of these women is soul shattering. Constantly being told you’re not pretty, you’re not as good, to be seen as exotic and only worthy of someone’s company in secret…it shapes your very existence. It’s taken me years to undo that damage…and yet I still have SO far to go.

Countless times I’ve been told I was “pretty…for a dark skinned girl” or more recently since cutting my hair that I’m “exotic”. Both those comments sting like having alcohol poured in an open wound. A wound that has been there for almost as long as I can remember and no matter how hard I try, no matter how many times I look at myself in mirror and say ‘You’re beautiful’, not matter how many verses of India Arie’s Brown Skin I memorize…the wound just won’t heal!

That wound makes you feel broken. It makes you feel dirty. Infected. Unworthy. Who wants to love someone who’s diseased? And since no one else loves me, why should I love myself? Why should I love the skin that makes me ugly? You accept it, you believe it. There’s no way all of these people are lying to you. GET OVER IT…YOU’RE UGLY!

I hated myself for a long time, and sadly, it was only once I started to replace that self-hate with hate for the people who had what I wanted–light skin (specifically women)–did I begin to feel better. Or so I thought.

I thought, “If I hate them back, it won’t hurt as bad.” “If I tell them THEY’RE ugly, maybe they’ll feel the pain I feel.” and “I’ll be damned if I date one of them [men]. Their men don’t want us so why should I give them the satisfaction of me wanting them.”

Us vs. Them?

When you take the time to take the pain and hurt from these statements, it seems utterly ridiculous that a person could feel this way. Especially considering how much I hate racism. If a white person said these comments to me [about black people], I would be furious and would waste no time informing them of their ignorance. But for whatever reason…perhaps my own ignorance…it felt right to feel this way about “them”. “They” deserved it. “They” were doing it to me…I should do it back.

But that hate was just a front. It did nothing to alleviate the pain I felt. Any time I was amongst a group of light skinned girls, my presence would shrink. I wished that I was invisible, because I felt that no one was looking at me anyways. I hated that all they had to do was simply exist and men would sell their souls just to sniff these girls wasted carbon dioxide. While I on the other hand, I had better have something to offer if I wanted to be worth their time. No long hair? Forget it. No sex? Why are you still here!

When you want people to want you sooo bad, it’s easy to let people use you. It’s taken a lot of tears–and a lot of therapy–to work through those feelings of wanting to be wanted and wanting to feel worthy. I’m not superwoman, and thus I still feel pain. And although I no longer wish that I were light skinned, I do still wish people thought I was equally as beautiful. However, the difference now is that I think I’m beautiful. I’ve learned that I validate me. NO ONE ELSE! I love the skin I’m in…and learning to love it more with each passing day.


May 25, 2011

[Video] Richard T. Jones Delivers Embarrassing Speech: UMUC 2011 Commencement

  • Second-hand embarrassment, noun

1. a moment characterized by someone else making a complete a** of themselves; so much so that it causes you to want to crawl under whatever rock they left their pride under and hide.

We’ve all experienced a moment where it caused us actual physical pain to watch someone in the midst of a verbal train wreck. Well a moment created by Richard T. Jones at the University of Maryland University Colleges’s recent 2011 commencement ceremony might just go down in history as the worst second-hand embarrassment inducing moment in history.

WARNING: This video is likely to cause extreme embarrassment, denial of one’s race, and in some cases, death by self-strangulation.

Not only is his “speech” embarrassing to both himself and everybody watching, it’s outright disrespectful to the people he was supposed to be honoring. These graduates have spent thousands of dollars and countless sleepless nights achieving step one of the American Dream and it’s a shame that the culmination of all that hard work is this pathetic excuse for a commencement speech. It’s just dreadful!

He begins by pointing out that the university booked “an actor behind a bunch of doctors”. Well sir…IT’S A COLLEGE GRADUATION! Not sure what you were expecting, but I’m pretty sure you knew that the individuals in attendance would have pretty stellar credentials–including those that you were speaking to. If you were intimidated by that fact, here’s a suggestion: SAY NO! Don’t ruin the most important day of a person’s life with your pointless thoughts about thoughts.

Richard T. Jones, if this speech were a relationship, it would definitely be the “20″ in the equation. smh. Just a dern shame.

What did you think of Richard’s commencement speech?


Feb 24, 2011

Anti-Abortion Ad in SoHo

This foolishness needs to stop!

Click here for more background information.


Sep 13, 2010

My Open Letter to Tupac – RIP

http://images.teamsugar.com/static/player.swf

I miss you. I miss you more than words can express. It feels like just yesterday that you were called home and although it’s been more years than I care to admit, the wound delivered to my 9 year old heart has not even BEGUN to heal. I often think of you and fight back tears. Tears of joy, tears of sadness, but mostly I fight back silent, inconsolable tears of guilt. Guilt bred from my need to apologize to you knowing I will never get the opportunity.

I’m sorry I never got the honor of meeting you. I’m sorry I sometimes forget just how much you meant to me. I’m sorry your voice no longer blasts from the stereo the way it used to during my grandmother’s Saturday morning cleaning ritual.

You left no heir to your throne and I’m sorry they [rappers] think they can claim a kingdom they have no rights to. There will forever be only ONE ‘greatest’ and that is the one true ‘shining serpent who gives thanks to god’. I’m sorry the world didn’t understand you. But most of all, I’m sorry they feared you so much; for it was that fear that brought about the demise of one of the most genuine spirits heaven has ever sent us.

Lesane, you truly were a gift from god. You were the first man I ever loved. I loved you before I even knew what it meant to really love. Even now, I don’t completely understand my love for you — all I know is that it’s real, it’s eternal and that it’s truly unconditional. May you forever rest in peace and in my heart.

- Blake


Jul 23, 2010

If You Really Knew Me…

If you really knew me…you’d know I sat staring at a tweet on my laptop last night for about an hour, TERRIFIED to click the “tweet” button. O and did I mention that the hour before that, I sat on the edge of my bed crying on the (telephoned) shoulder of several of my friends? What was it that had me so worked up. Ironically enough it was the fact that I had accomplished one of my life goals.

Anybody who knows me knows that I grew up in foster care. I have no problem sharing that with people. It is what it is at this point. Now, about 8 or 9 years ago, you couldn’t have paid me in Louboutin store credit to tell you that. But as I’ve gotten older I’ve come to accept my life and past experiences just for what they are–the past. In no way an indication of the trajectory of the rest of my life.

But more important than my acceptance is my extreme desire to advocate for “kids like me”. I recently had the opportunity to write a brief Opinion’s Column for the Atlanta Journal Constitution about my experiences and the change I feel the foster care system needs to see. I’ve been working with the editor over the past week perfecting my article and when I received the email that it would be posted in today’s AJC, I was estatic. THEN IT HIT ME!

What would people think? What would they say? Would they judge me? Would they think my family legacy was MY legacy? Would they pity me? Dear god, I hope not! Pity was the last thing not on the list of things I was trying to accomplish by writing this article. I spent the greater part of my work day literally sick to my stomach with nervousness and fear. I tried to calm myself by saying, “It’s done. It’s already gone to press. There’s nothing you can do. RELAX!” THAT DID NOT HELP! I was freaking the hell out! Jesus, take the wheel.

Fast forward to last night. While crying to my friends and trying to figure what the HECK I was gonna do if all of a sudden I didn’t have a single supporter in the world, I decided to check the site just so I’d know where to look tomorrow morning. ARE YOU EFFIN’ KIDDING ME?! It’s already posted??? The tears stopped immediately. I was in complete shock. My hands started to tremble as I told the person on the other end of the phone, “I’ll call you back. I have to process this.” I knew exactly what the article would say, so the content was not a shock. I mean, I wrote it. But I felt completely vulnerable and beyooond exposed. I had just shared with all of Atlanta information about me  that some of my closest friends don’t even know.

O crap! My closest friends?? They’ve been waiting since last week for this article and are all asking me for the link. Shoot! Now what do I do? Now we arrive at my “sit and stare at the tweet” situation. Sure, “all of Atlanta” knows, but once I click this button there’s really no going back. People who actually know me would know. Was I prepared for that? I wasn’t so sure.

Long story short, after about an hour I finally got up the nerve to send the tweet and the support was overwhelmingly positive! *Whew* Bullet dodged. I know there will be people who do indeed judge me or think less of me, but you know what, that’s on them. Feel free. I had to remind myself that I’m not doing this for them. I’m not even doing it for me. I’m doing it for the “kids like me” who don’t have a voice, who haven’t quite figured out how to make people see past their pain and see THEM. So…to all the foster kids (former & present) in the world…THIS STORY IS FOR YOU!

Click here to read my article. (Section A21 of today’s paper)

UPDATE: Check out the short article written about my article. Neato!


May 14, 2010

Is Your Oppressor Your God? Think About It.

Is she beautiful to you?http://dimewars.com/flashmedia/secureflvplayer.swf

I couldn’t have said it any better. So I won’t even try. *taking my hat off to her*


May 10, 2010

All My “Chocolate” Girls…STAND UP! *side eye*

Seeing this video literally made me sick to my stomach. I couldn’t even watch the whole thing and probably won’t.http://www.worldstarhiphop.com/videos/e/16711680/wshhK568d9JfVjBE3wgA

As a dark skinned female, I’m just as sick as the next person of seeing music videos full of nothing but light skinned women (more recently white & Latino), but I really don’t think this is the answer. On one hand, I feel like why the hell should I care what they do in music videos? But then I’m faced with the sad realization that society–especially the black community–uses these “models” (and I use the term as loosely as these women are) to define what is beautiful and what is not. And since it’s not my likeness that is being shown in these videos, I can only deduct that women who look “like me” are not considered beautiful. I admit, I cringe every time I hear, “I like ‘em long haired, thick, redbone”…or some variation of the lyric, because I am none of those things and who the hell are you to try and dictate to me how I should feel about myself based off some slave derived concept of beauty?

So I guess Lil Jon, Mario & R. Kelly must have heard the complaints of women like me and decided to make us an “anthem”. In theory it sounds like the right thing to do right? Glorify the “underdogs”, show the world their value and therefore make them feel good about themselves. Even I thought so at first. I’ve been known to say, “Can I just get ONE video with some dark skinned women in it?” But in all actuality all this does is continue to divide us. Colorism is as old a concept as slavery and quite frankly it’s disgusting that we are still talking about either subject. But the way to level the playing field is not by sending one “team” on the offensive. If I were a light skinned female I would feel just as attacked by lyrics like “I had a redbone chick before, but she can’t do it like you” as I DO by statements like “You’re cute to be dark skinned.” Both statements are ignorant.

Lord knows I could go on all day about this topic, but I’ll spare us all my soapbox grand stand. I know some people will criticize me and say, “Well you asked for it and now that you got it, all you can do is complain!” But anybody who knows me knows that my real issue is with the hierarchies that stuff like this creates. Why is one skin color better than the other? Why is permed hair better than unpermed? The list goes on. Different doesn’t equal better!

It’s not necessary to display all the disclaimers. “See…we think dark skinned women are pretty! We made a whole song dedicated to them!” But what about the millions of light skinned women you just slapped in the face in order to do so? It’s a vicious cycle. Beauty is beauty and the thing that makes it such a valued commodity is that there isn’t just one definition of it. Show it all equally or SHUT UP!

***And don’t you just LOVE the use of all those silhouettes? I guess Cassidy was right, “If you’re a dark skinned chick you gotta have body because we can’t see yo’ face!” Dude…KICK ROCKS!