I Am Not a Stereotype

I am not a Stereotype

Stereotypes Hurt.  No More Labels!!

Women of all colors, races, religions ethnic groups and nationalities face double jeopardy.

I will not be defined by the narrow conventions of your mangled mind.

Me and Patti LaBelle got a new attitude.


I will not be typecast by the slant of my eyes, the color of my skin or country of origin.

I am a Woman of faith of dignity who demands and commands respect.

I refuse to suffer indignities of your racist sexist perversions.

I follow the laws of God as dictated by my belief system whatever it may be.

I am not an exotic playtoy or life size Barbie doll existing only to gratify, satisfy or fulfill your twisted sadistic carnal predilections.

I am not the one and today is not your day.

I will not be afraid and will not back down.

I am not a victim.

I am more than a survivor.

I am defiant.

You do not have license to ill.

My height, weight, shape do not delineate me as a loose woman or a hot number.

I am not your Ethiopian Chocolate Fantasy or submissive Asian delight found in the back covers of men’s magazines.

I am not your Indian Maiden with feathers in her hair or a sari wrapped around her waist.

If I’m a Lesbian nothing between your legs will make me straight and certainly does not impress me.

Whatever fever you got, be it Jungle Fever, Yellow Fever, Red Fever, Hot Spicy Latina Fever, I’m about to throw cold water all over it and knock you out cold. Get over yourself. You’re not all that and a bag of chips.

I choose who, when, where and if I will lay my body down.

I am the Goddess and only the worthy may gain access to the Temple. As Women we are called to maintain order in the Universe. Ladies ~ Realize your calling.

Asshole Repellent
Asshole Repellent

Ladies sexual abuse, workplace bullying and sexual harassment is the Elephant in the Room that everybody sees but fails to acknowledge its presence. Instead we step lightly around him hoping he will go away of his accord. Do not remain silent. Speak up. Speak out.

Emmett Till & Trayvon Martin

Emmett Till, July 25, 1941 to August 28, 1955
Emmett Till, July 25, 1941 to August 28, 1955

Astonished, Bewildered, Disgusted and with a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach were they emotions that unsettled me when I first heard the Not Guilty verdict in the Trayvon Martin case. I could not believe that the Jury had found George Zimmerman Not Guilty. Did these 6 women some of whom must have children, grandchildren or nieces and nephews not see the tears and hear the wails of Trayvon’s parents, Sybrina Fulton and Tracy Martin. Were they all deaf, dumb and blind?

Surely it was a mistake.  I had reserved comment and judgment on the case because I truly believed with all the evidence against him George Zimmerman would be on his way to prison. Not so. Once again in our Criminal Injustice System the dead victim was on trial and he lost. Racial profiling, racial stereotypes, bias, bigotry, prejudice and racism win again and another family is left in sorrow and grief.

Two Lynchings nearly 60 years apart but same outcome. Two innocent young men lost their lives over bias, prejudice, stereotypes, perception, bigotry racism. Fourteen-year-old Emmett Till was visiting relatives in Money, Mississippi on August 24, 1955 when he reportedly flirted with a white cashier at a grocery store. Four days later, two white men kidnapped Till, beat him, and shot him in the head. The men were tried for murder, but an all-white, male jury acquitted them. Till’s murder and open casket funeral galvanized the emerging civil rights movement.
When will the insanity end?


Trayvon Martin in his Hoodie

Bastille Day. Frances Independence Day when the poor and disenfranchised rose up against the elites and the monarchy. How sad that today also signals no justice for Trayvon Martin or his family. My Heart and Prayers go out to his parents and siblings. The ugly face of Jim Crow once thought vanquished has returned to rear it’s ugly head and laugh in our modern liberal faces.

Some ask what of the Kenneth Chamberlain case as well as Eleanor Bumpers, Amadou Diallo, and Sean Bell.  As in the case of Emmett Till there were maybe Black men lynched who names are now lost to history. Maybe the Trayvon Martin case like the case of Emmett was more highlighted because Trayvon and Emmett were children. They never got to live their lives. They never had the opportunity to attend college, get hat first job, get married or have children of their own. Maybe as the Emmett Till case was a lightening rod for the nascent Civil Rights Movement so will the Trayvon Martin case be a reminder not just to Black people but all Americans that someone with no authority or even the right can decide in a moments notice whether you or your loved ones should live or die.

I do not put myself in the position to say one murder is more important or more significant than another. All were human beings. All deserved to live, however this case is a watershed to bring all Americans with good sense together to fight back. The bias and bigotry is so thick and ingrained that the jury could acquit this murderer even with all the evidence against him. This rent-a-cop who was told to stop following the boy. He disobeyed and created an incident that resulted in this boy’s death.

For one moment put yourself in his parents shoes. How do you think they feel. As soon as Zimmerman continued to follow this boy that in and of itself was premeditated murder. Certain people cite the Stand your Ground laws as a precedent. Well Nazi Germany had laws too. Hitler made all types of laws, rules and regulations that resulted in the deaths of 12 million people, Jews, developmentally disabled, physically disabled, gays, etc… President Andrew Jackson made a law that not only displaced thousands of Native Americans on the Trail of Tears but many Native Americans died on their long march. Laws, rules, regulations, statutes made by made by evil men cannot be allowed to stand the test of time or as an excuse to allow murderers like Zimmerman to go free inciting other racist nuts to follow in his wicked footsteps.

Genesis 4 The Mark of Cain
After Cain slew his brother Abel, YEHOVAH God set a “mark” on him, and sent him to the land of wandering.

Zimmerman bears the Mark of Cain. He will find no peace or rest on this world or in the next. Trayvon Martin’s innocent blood cries out for Justice. Cain’s mark protected him from vengeance. Zimmerman’s mark dooms him to wander trying to escape the Justice he so richly deserves. If he is not convicted in a Civil Rights case he will be forced into hiding. There is a price on his head. He will never be able to find a job anywhere, he will always have to watch his back & even Edward Snowden has a better chance of amnesty or asylum than George Zimmerman. Yes he may smile and grin now but the life he has created for himself through his evil is not a life anybody would want to live. Soon the Devil will come to collect his soul. Zimmerman is damned for now and eternity.  We won’t let Trayvon Martin’s death be in vain.


A Murderer has escaped Justice. Help Get Justice for Trayvon Martin


Genetic Memory

Genetic Memory

There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.
– Hamlet (1.5.166-7), Hamlet to Horatio

2 Corinthians 12:3-4

New International Version (NIV)

And I know that this man—whether in the body or apart from the body I do not know, but God knows— was caught up to paradise and heard inexpressible things, things that no one is permitted to tell.

Lately I’ve been having some very odd spiritual experiences. They are akin to the TV program Quantum Leap where the guy leaps into another person’s body or even more personal like the protagonist in the Octavia Butler novel, Kindred. Mine is not quite that spectacular but it began last year with my mother’s spirit speaking through me to create a memoir for her. Even though my Mom has been deceased since 1998 it was like she and I were one flesh. The stimulus was a rather unpleasant family disagreement but that one trigger melded our spirits and I began to feel the emotions she had over 50 years ago concerning my Brother Stephen’s developmental disability. All the hurt, pain, sadness, anguish and depression she felt when she was unjustly accused of causing her beloved son’s autism surfaced within my spirit.

I just began to write and write over the course of the last 7 or 8 months. Then after finding out some interesting family history concerning my maternal grandmother again I began to experience her emotions. Then a few days ago when I was posted in the Civil War Photography exhibit at my museum, once more an ancestor’s thoughts and emotions came to me. My Great, Great Grandfather William Henry Halstead fought in the Civil War. There was a steady stream of visitors but everyone was quiet, calm, serious, deeply affected by what they were seeing. During the course of the day as I walked through the photographs taking everything in it was like I began to see through the eyes of my Great, Great Grandfather. I could hear the sounds of battle, the screams of pain from injured soldiers, feel his adrenaline as he surged forth with his 29th CT. Colored Regiment brothers. All I can say it was like I was in his head. I had to make an effort to turn off so I could finish my day without freaking out. Even now I feel he is still with me even though I never met him. Maybe this is genetic memory. All the memories of our ancestors stay with us though we are separated by time but not necessarily by eternity. As a writer it gives a different aspect and flavor to my writing but it is a very strange sensation and I don’t know what to make of this new development.

William H. Halstead name as inscribed on the Colored Soldiers Monument in Washington, DC
William H. Halstead name as inscribed on the Colored Soldiers Monument in Washington, DC

It happened last year as I was making a Family Photo collage for the Employee Art Show. It was as though family members long deceased most whom I never got the chance to meet were telling me where to place all the photos within the collage. Very strange.

Family Photo Collage
Ancestor Branches

I’m beginning to wonder if I’m some type of an Empath like on Star Trek.

Empaths have the ability to scan another’s psyche for thoughts and feelings or for past, present, and future life occurrences. Many empaths are unaware of how this actually works, and have long accepted that they were sensitive to others.


I posed my questions to the FB Black Ancestry page and received several intuitive responses.

“I’ve been chosen as a Portal by my family members who have passed on.

Some inanimate objects do have an impressed energy and will release to an open mind/spirit. Some good, some negative. In your case, the familiar of family to present themselves to you to share an understanding of who they were to help others in their journeys here.”

While in the Egyptian Wing of the museum I also felt a spiritual connection to this woman perhaps Queen Tiye whose face graces a canopic jar. Queen Tiye ~ Canopic Jar

William Henry Halstead Headstone ~ Sleepy Hollow
William Henry Halstead Headstone ~ Sleepy Hollow

The Battle scene I heard while in the Civil War Photography exhibit as described by one of my Great, Great Grandfathers fellow soldiers.   http://conn29th.org/stories.htm

Maybe my Great, great grandfather is trying to connect with me. Sometimes I wonder why he speaks to me. Also I never had experiences of this magnitude when I was younger. I did have visions between the ages of 4 and 5 but I never told my parents for fear they would think I was nuts. These visions began again after I turned 50. I’m 54 now. An odd age for the portal to reopen. Now I know why he waited nearly 150 years not just for me to make an appearance on this earth but he waited for “The One”.  The Anointed One who would be able to tell the stories of the ancestors and who could make Spiritual Consolation so their souls could be at rest. 

In December of 1863 my Great Great Grandfather, William Henry Halstead, who lived in Tarrytown, New York, traveled to New Haven, Connecticut to join the 29th Connecticut Colored Infantry. On his Volunteer Enlistment papers it notes his occupation as a farmer. He enlisted for three years and was discharged on the 24th day of October 1865. He married and had five children. William Henry Halstead passed away in 1888 and was buried in Sleepy Hollow Cemetery in Tarrytown, New York. His wife moved to New York City with her five children. Her children grew up in Harlem and belonged to various organizations such as Odd Fellows, Ladies of the Grand Army of the Republic and the Daughters of New York.

Sp4 Palmer, 569th PSC & 101st Airborne Division.

Deborah Ann Palmer U.S. Army 1977-1981
Deborah Ann Palmer
U.S. Army 1977-1981

I’m glad my spirit is open and that some family members have decided to reconnect through the veil of life and death to communicate with me. I would say that they don’t want to be forgotten by current and future generations. I am Chosen to tell their stories.

The Black Woman in Society’s Mirror

The Black Woman in Society’s Mirror

It’s dangerous to be a Black Woman over 40 and seeking that special life partner. You’re an entity of exotica, scorn, repellent to some and desired by others. Both Jezebel and Sapphire. Succubus and Saint. Are we sex monsters or vixens. Or have we become the seductive Sirens of Green mythology dangerous and beautiful femme fatales who lured nearby sailors with their enchanting melody and singing to shipwreck on the rocky coasts of their deserted island.

 Do we aspire to Hatshepsut or the Mata Hari?

 At the demands of a modern sex driven society some of us re-imagine ourselves as the Vixen capable of seducing any man, but is this only a self-imposed illusion that aligns and binds us within men’s’ fantasies?


There are special dating challenges for dark-skinned Black women and Black Women over 50. All women have insecurities about their looks and self-worth. Am I ever good enough? Do I measure up?  Thomas doubted Jesus. We doubt ourselves. In the process we lose some of our dignity. We are raised to compete for a so-called small pool of Black men. Daily images of perfectly shaped buff voluptuous curvy young sisters are thrown in our faces by the media. Women must always be perfect.  Perhaps we are more lumpy than curvy.

We must fit the image society has for us. Even though in this country we have the right to choose a marriage partner, but from youth girls are trained to believe marriage and children are the end-all and be-all of life. We aspire to that. We are misguided. Then as you approach 40 some of us become more desperate because that’s when you fall off men’s radar.

 After age 50 you totally disappear. Relegated to the trash heap of modern antiquities. Relics of a bygone era. Back in the day women like me were called spinsters or Old Maids. Heck there was even a kid’s card game called Old Maid and you didn’t want to get that card! Even though we no longer use those terms they are still in the back of our minds.  So many emotions jockeying for position inside our heads and ingrained in our Psyche. I think it is much worse for Black Women. We become veterans of romantic wars at odds with our uniqueness vs. the Stepford Women of society and media.

And we do know that Beauty misplaced may yield the seeds of misfortune.

 In my 20s I was just coming into my sexuality and my imagined power to get men to do my bidding based on my body. In my 30s I yearned to settled down, not necessarily to have children but to play the role of wife. Such a role was never realized. By 40 with both my parents gone and not wanting to spend the rest of my life alone I entered into a long-term relationship with an abusive man who in small doses of love mixed with pain destroyed my self-confidence, belief in myself and planted seeds of doubt that it took years to root out. Age 48 my abuser left me for a younger woman after years of tearing me down. I was rid of him physically but emotional, physical and sexual abuse had taken its toll.

Emotional scars take longer to heal than physical.  More rapidly than I would have like 50 seized me by the synapses and the emotional roller coaster of Menopause played havoc with my emotions and feelings. I had to throw off the shackles of past abuse and find a new me that I could love. So I re-imagined myself into Storm and Cat Woman. Sounds odd but fictional strong female characters allowed me a safe space to grow into this new phase of womanhood. Now at age 54 I can truly say I’m about 95% at peace with myself and for the most part I enjoy the pleasure of my own company. Perhaps one day I’ll dip once more into the dating pool but today it’s all about me. Me being a Unicorn.

Eye of the Beholder


Masks for the Masquerade


Be Original. Be Yourself.

Being me.
Be Original. Be Yourself.

Ms. Afro Rojo signing off.

Me channeling Cat Woman Halloween 2011
Me channeling Cat Woman Halloween 2011

Luna Redeems Her Sisters

Handsome men leave behind a trail of broken hearts. Bitter words and bitter lies designed to strip our souls of strength. For them it’s a game of Hearts. Hearts to break, souls to trample into the ground.

A Pathway littered with the debris of broken angels. Spirits melting into glass puddles lying stagnant upon the porous earth. Our Mother Earth taking mercy receives the scattered ashes mixed with Luna’s tears back into her Womb so that we can be reborn as the Phoenix Arisen.

Deborah - A Judge over Israel
Deborah – A Judge over Israel