Points to Ponder — Images of Women


Points to Ponder.

2 females fighting over a man
Two females fighting for the attentions of a worthless man.

Life is one giant learning experience. I chalk up the misplaced words of bitter jealous insecure women as signs of immaturity and deal with them on that level. Would I fight over a man? No. Why. Because Honey there ain’t that much “love” in the world and I’m saving that love for the happy trio of me, myself and I.

Unfortunately we as women live in a society that pits us against each other. Something like a female “Hunger Games”. Women are made to feel that they are in competition with each other over the few crumbs of favor, perks or success some man in authority and power may throw our way. Not so. Yes we do live in a male dominated society but women must band together and make their own opportunities but not at the expense of our images.

This is what I hate most about shows like, Love and Hip-Hop, Basketball Wives, Housewives of (fill in the blank), Mob Wives, etc… These women who’ve only had a semblance of “success” through a rich husband or father throw themselves into the TV Roman arena, then commence to claw, rip and shred each other apart. The first two shows I mentioned make well-to-do Black Women or rather Black Women in general look like gold digging sluts. Unfortunately this is what our young Black women model themselves after. How long are we going to going to be dazzled by this bullshit?

The mindset of these negative TV shows is so pervasive that it’s even seeping to the psyche of older women. That makes for the older women vs. the younger women slugfests. Women of a certain age feel they have to slice, dice, ice, pull up, straighten out, fly, dye and pull to the side various parts of their anatomy in hopes that an admiring man preferably wealthy will look their way. As a 50+ Black Woman I refuse to allow male dominant culture to marginalize or put me out to pasture.

More than likely the war between age and youth has always been in place but the advent of technology escalates the situation to a whole new level.

With the dawn of cable TV, the Internet and social media the heat is on women who feel they’re past their prime to belly up to the bimbo bar. All of sudden superficiality has replaced substance. Hair, nails and make-up have become more important than morals, values, academic knowledge or intellectually bearing. Don’t get me wrong I too color my hair and get my nails done but my reason behind these beauty treatments are they please me. The pampering makes me feel good as a woman and naturally I want to look good. However anyone who knows me well also knows I’m not the type of woman to dumb myself down for a man. I come from a place of intellect, intelligence and knowledge. I believe my sexiness is internal manifesting itself in the external. Yes I can look great in a mini-skirt, dress or shorts but I can also hold an intelligent conversation on a range of topics from literature, history and sociology. This brings me to my next point.

Where are the TV shows that balance these horrible images out? Where are our Black Women writers, scientists, researchers, anthropologists, astronauts, historians…..? Mae Jemison, Barbara Jordan, Shirley Chisholm, Sojourner Truth, Zora Neale Hurston, Fanny Lou Hamer, Mary McLeod Bethune, Ida B. Wells-Barnett.

Shameful Silence. How much do you Ladies want to bet that the cast of Basketball Wives has no knowledge of these great Black Women? On the other hand would they want to?

Points to Ponder.

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Pharmacia Cornucopia


Pharmacia Cornucopia

Alice’s Restaurant

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LjKF7aQthcQ&feature=colike

Like the words of the famous song Alice’s Restaurant today’s prescription drug addict “You can get anything you want at Alice’s Restaurant”. Why risk getting arrested and possibly spending any time in jail when you can go to a variety of doctors and easily get prescriptions for Xanax, Celexa, Zyprexa, Ambien, Wellbutrin, Zoloft, Paxil, Oxycotin, etc…..  After all it’s legal.

Go Ask Alice

White Rabbit ☮ Jefferson Airplane ♥ 1967

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IsvILKyxfsU&feature=colike

Thanks to our pill cure obsessed society along with the greed of Big Pharma who consistently bribes most physicians to distribute their pills like they were M&Ms in the Candy Shop to unsuspecting patients who need relief from pain, anxiety and depression.  Very few people are suffering from psychosis which most of the aforementioned drugs are designed to treat.

How do I know this? I am a recovering prescription drug addict. Shocked? Surprised?  Never would have suspected someone like me right? A church goer, Bible student, Cum Laude College graduate, hard worker, one who has always been able to hold down a job and be success in the workplace. Well now you know. I’ve come out from behind my mask. The mask I’ve been hiding behind since 1999 the year after my Mom Mable Palmer passed away.  Nineteen Ninety Nine was the pivotal year when I made my descent down the rabbit hole of grief, depression, anxiety and pressure to get past the pain of my parents deaths which occurred within three years of each other.  I had to keep the charade going. I could never reveal to anyone how really devastated I was by their untimely loss.

Nineteen Ninety Nine was the year I started seeing a psychiatrist. It started off well enough. At least I thought so in my troubled mind. She had me watch a video on mental illness, specifically bi-polar disorder, asked me a few questions then sent me into a journey and eventually a slide into the land of Happy Pills.  What I probably most needed was a mild sedative and extensive talk therapy but no I received Celexa and eventually was promoted to stronger more debilitating prescription drugs.

Mind you because at the time I had a good job and good health insurance there was no problem in me obtaining in number or manner of pills to satisfy my growing reliance on these medications.  In fact my doctor enabled me by reaching into one of her office drawers and dispensing free pills she had obtained from the many pharmaceutical agents who visited her offices, and most likely plied her with dinners, trips, etc…. if she would promote their “medications”.

What Dr. Pill Happy failed to ask me was if anyone in my family specifically my parents had any addictions.  If she had asked me that I would have told her my mother was diagnosed with schizophrenia and was an alcoholic most of her adult life.  But then again who knows, given the fact that the Big Pharma Drug Pushers were greasing her palms she would have ignored the obvious connection between my behavior and my mother’s and continued adult candy.  Then again I can’t just blame this doctor, most doctors just indiscriminately dispense mind altering pills with little regard as to whether this will cause adverse reactions’ in their patients.  I also blame myself.  I wanted the pain to go away.  I wanted to be ten feet tall all the time.

The only thing that stopped my downward slide was I lost my job in 2006 and my health benefits in 2007. Suddenly I had to confront the ugliness in my life and everything I hated about me.  I couldn’t hide anymore.  Not that I didn’t try. By 2008 I had a new job with its own particular stresses and pressures.

To bring this saga up to date within the last few years I’ve developed severe back, knee and foot pain. My current profession requires me to be on my feet over eight hours a day and the natural ravages of age and time have taken their toll on the lower half of my body.  Many times the pain was so bad I couldn’t get out of bed to accomplish simple housework much less stand on my feet for eight hours.  Not only was I taking medicine to combat pain I also had to take sleeping pills so I could at least get enough rest to deal with the daily challenges of the workplace.  I was going to different doctors getting various prescriptions for physical pain.  I took all my prescriptions’ to the same pharmacy. It would seem a large chain pharmacy would see that the combination of drugs I was taking would cause certain negative interactions within my body.  They didn’t.  At least once or twice within the last four years I nearly lost my life.

Finally I told myself I must climb out of the rabbit hole.  I might be ten feet tall outside but inside I felt only two inches tall.   I hurt not only physically but emotionally and mentally. The poison that I tried to suppress inside began to seep out.  I knew I couldn’t hide behind the mask anymore.  My problems lay not just with my parents’ deaths but with sexual abuse I suffered from the time I was 19 up to and including all the sexually abusive relationships I had been in until I was 48.  Now I’m in the process of confronting my fears.  This is not an easy journey.  I’m in my 50s now.  Life has definitely changed and not always for the better but change is the only constant in life.  I’ve had to make many adjustments and accept my physical limitations.  I may fall off the wagon during my journey but nobody’s perfect.  But whether or not I have the mercy and compassion of people is neither here nor there.  Most of all I have God’s mercy.  I have God’s compassion because He knows what I’m going through.  God has not judged me for mood swings or depression.  This is an illness and I know when I get too tired to go on anymore God in His infinite mercy and wisdom will take me Home to Paradise.

I also knew I had to write this piece clean and sober. My Valentine’s Day piece was written while I was spaced out on Ambien. Strangely this piece was very well received. I mean I got a lot of great feedback from LinkedIn, Facebook & Twitter fans. At the same time all the adulation was scary because I knew I could continue as a functioning drug addict or I could make a clean break. As a chronic insomniac Ambien is a very difficult drug to break free from. Taken in its proper dosage you sleep. However take two pills instead of one your body sleeps but your subconscious is still awake, still able to function. In a psychedelic way Ambien has an effect of enhancing talents already residing within you but at the same time with the capacity to kill you.  Obviously I don’t want to die but I do want to obliterate the emotional and psychological pain that threatens to rip apart my very soul. But the realization comes that pain can never be totally erased only dealt with on day by day basis. Small doses of healing dispensed over time.

No matter what I have fulfilled my purpose in life because I share this story with others, not for you to understand me but to at least have understanding and empathy others struggling along the rocky path of prescription addiction.

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My Maternal Ancestry Tree: The bond and bridge that enable me to crossover from America to Africa


Friday, December 02, 2011

My Maternal Ancestry Tree: The bond and bridge that enable me to crossover from America to Africa

Maternal Ancestry Journey

Isaiah 54:1-3

New King James Version (NKJV)

A Perpetual Covenant of Peace

1 “Sing, O barren,
You who have not borne!
Break forth into singing, and cry aloud,
You who have not labored with child!
For more are the children of the desolate
Than the children of the married woman,” says the LORD.
2 “ Enlarge the place of your tent,
And let them stretch out the curtains of your dwellings;
Do not spare;
Lengthen your cords,
And strengthen your stakes.
3 For you shall expand to the right and to the left,
And your descendants will inherit the nations,
And make the desolate cities inhabited.

 

Mable Elizabeth Palmer
Mable Elizabeth Palmer

The eternal question, Who Am I? Many of us find the answer within our respective Family Trees.  It was obvious to me that my ancestry began in Africa, but where in that great continent did my ancestors originate.  But for me as an African American some of the branches were broken off and gone missing. 

Thus began my quest to not only discover my maternal lineage but my genetic link to Mother Africa.  Hidden within the larger search to trace my family history on my Mom’s side was the greater goal to honor my mother and complete myself as a branch of the family tree. DNA can now unlock the secrets and the past giving voice to generations of women, the collective matriarchy that ultimately formed me.  Living in a society that often devalues, trivializes and cuts Black Women down, within my personal family history lay the opportunity to validate and reaffirm self.

Family Skeletons Revealed

Hattie Finney Banks was my grandmother.  Hattie and Mattie Finney were twin sisters.  Mattie Finney moved to Illinois and married a man named Harper.  I always wondered what became of Mattie. My grandmother Hattie Banks never spoke of her twin sister Mattie.  I always thought that was unusual but I did not ask any questions.  Did not want to pry. 

About two years ago my brother Stephen and I spent Thanksgiving with our New Jersey cousins.  My Aunt told me a family story which might explain the split between the sisters and why they never again contacted each other.

My grandfather Hugh Banks, Hattie’s husband murdered Daniel R. Finney.  So Hugh Banks killed his in-law, his wife’s close relative. Hugh Banks died in prison sometime around 1940.  My Aunt went to the funeral.  She does not know the reason why Hugh Banks murdered Daniel Finney.  All this took place in the 1930s.  After the funeral Hattie took my Mom, Mable, her sisters and moved to Dayton, Ohio.  Hattie told everyone including my mother, her sisters and me that Hugh Banks had died in a coal mining accident. 

I suppose she had to make up a false story and hide the truth because of embarrassment, shame or just wanting to forget.  From what little my grandmother Hattie Banks told me Hugh Banks was a violent and abusive husband.  I guess when she moved to Dayton to be with her brothers Clarence & Willie she just want to forget the past and start with a clean slate.  I can’t prove it but somehow, some way this murder was probably behind Hattie and Mattie breakup.

23andme Ancestry

Good Ancestor News: Found out this week that through my maternal line my ancestors were from Mozambique. I belong to the maternal haplogroup L3e2b1a.

I also probably have some Nigerian ancestors. My maternal genetic makeup is 85% Africa, 12% Europe and 3% Asia.

Our ancestry and genealogy are traced through mitochondrial DNA which is only passed down from mother to child. This is fascinating information. By the way the study affiliated with Dr. Henry Louis Gates is free and they are targeting African Americans. I’ve wanted to have my DNA traced for several years and when I saw the ad in Ebony or was it Essence along with the word Free, I immediately signed up. I was so thrilled to find out this news. Now along with my African co-workers feel a more direct connection to the Motherland.

Naturally, I’ll never be connected to Mother Africa the way in which my co-workers from Nigeria, Ghana, Cameroon, Burkina Faso, Togo, and Mali are since they were born there and have a direction connection with the culture, language and respective tribes, I feel now more of a blood tie. Now I can plan for my pilgrimage to this country of my ancestors in the next five to ten years.

I’ve shared my findings with a select group of like-minded co-workers and when I return to work on Sunday will continue to do so.

As I previously stated, Hattie Finney Banks was my maternal grandmother. I’m in the process of writing a book honoring my mother, Mable Elizabeth Palmer, Hattie’s eldest daughter. Right now I’m trying to locate the birth certificate of either Hattie or her twin sister Mattie Finney. I want and need to know who their mother, my great grandmother was. I need that piece of information for not only my research but for my literary work. I know plenty about my Dad’s family history but almost nothing about my Mom’s side. Also there is something in me which needs completion.

When I look in the mirror I see Mable Elizabeth Palmer. I see unknown people from my collective past begging me to tell their story. I must answer their cries to be heard. Before I travel to Mozambique, South Africa I’ll have to visit West Virginia and examine birth, death, prison and military/Armed Forces records that may be available.

Then in 2012 back to Ancestry.com for more research on my maternal family tree.  My maternal ancestors from Mother Africa call me and I willingly answer the call.  Our patriarchal society bows down to the greater stronger Matriarchy for only females carry the mitochondrial DNA that enable all of us to trace our roots and find our origins.  The Journey continues!!

http://www.23andme.com/

National Geographic also offers a similar test but it costs $99.95. That will have to wait until I receive my Federal income tax check next year. I want to see if genetic lineage test comes up with the same result as 23andme. I would think that for $100 the testing would be more wide-ranging and comprehensive. My goal is to find out more about my maternal lineage. My ultimate goal is to deepen my connection to my mother, grandmother and of course Mother Africa.

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Forgiveness of a Mother’s Love


Mable Elizabeth Palmer
My Mom, Mable Elizabeth Palmer

Forgiveness of a Mother’s Love

A Mother’s Love reaches across hills, valleys, rivers and streams.

Across the eons of time and universe to hear her child’s cry for help.

I knelt at her feet, my head in her lap. The lap containing the womb of the Goddess who gave me life.

Her arms bridge the gap between this life and the next. My face cupped in her hands of redemption seeking salvation.

An outpouring of forgiveness sweeps over me like standing under a waterfall with waves of compassion and love overflowing the empty spaces in my life.

Today’s Forgiving Fridays: A Big Lesson on How to Let Go

 

 

A Mother’s Love is all encompassing, all faithful, all trusting. Hope against hope. Faith against faith. Reaching across the void separating us, pulling me close to her breasts, within her very being, enveloping me in undying love.

Dedicated to the memory of my Mom,

Mable Elizabeth Palmer, May 2, 1930 – August 2, 1998

Mable Elizabeth Palmer

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