Friday, February 8, 2008

You Can Hate on Me

Alright, I just saw Jill Scott in concert for the first time. Tonight, February 7th, 2008. In Oakland. One question: where the f*$k have I been?!? It was so much, so full, from start to finish. I loved it, her, the crowd, and me. And, I needed it. I needed her. 

Let me explain. 

My dear *husband* and I got there right as she took the stage--it was truly a date, as his husband went home sick--and I (we) was mesmerized from that moment on. She was beautiful, in her stance, posture, the lighting as it glistened over every inch of her body, her shoes.

I really loved the shoes.

And she wasn't playing. She came to do her thing to the absolute fullest, arms stretched wide, hips wider, shaking her whole self to the music. And it filled me up and made me feel so good I have to share it. I sit here as I write and feel good about my body, my skin, everything. A little turned on? Maybe. Well, yeah. But I'm not going to slip into my bedroom by myself just yet, or at all really. It's a different kind of turn on, one that has been missing or hasn't been reached in a minute, minus a bit of pretense.

See, I've been thinking about Black women a lot lately--in my writing, my teaching, my self. And I'm feelin' us. It's love. Everything, everything about us. The way we look, our hair, our lips, our freckles, our brown, hazel, "light" eyes, our breasts, our asses, our eyeliner, our manicured toenails, our legs, our straight perms. All of it.  And I'm not talking about the "I'm feelin' us, cause I date women and Black women are fine!" kind of way. That's true, but that's easy. It's a bit harder to actually LOVE us, love me, love that woman I saw in the aisle tonight and made eye contact with. And, I haven't been able to truly express that love because it doesn't feel like there's room to. 

Not when people talk to you like they think they are smarter than you. And I'm not talking about colleagues, I'm talking about the woman who serves me coffee. Or students. And she/they might be at times, but why you gotta talk to me like that? Or, when dudes grab your hand as you run for the train just trying to "talk" to you. There is something about this body, my body, Black girl bodies that people think is theirs. Or, at least, is theirs for the taking.

In spite of that, I'm going back to feelin' love. Real love and I'm gonna keep feelin' it. For me and for my girls, my sistas, my peeps. I want to go deeper, all the way with that love, which Jill Scott embodied tonight. As my 'other' friend said, and said it best; Jill Scott is channeling something, something comes through her from a higher place. And it's in me now, coming out and there's no way I can put it back in. And there's more to come. The real thing. 

And you can hate on me, hater.

3 comments:

holly said...

that's right, it's love.

brohemian said...

YES! jill was (and is) the REAL THING. in a way i wish her star were bigger, 'cause lord knows so many other people could be inspired by her power and presence...

Felicia Monique said...

Cosign!