i am

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harlem, usa
same-gender-loving contemporary descendant of enslaved africans. community activist, feminist, health educator, independent filmmaker, mentor, playwright, poet & spiritual being. featured at, in & on africana.com, afrikan poetry theatre, angel herald, bejata dot com, bet tonight with tavis smiley, blacklight online, black noir, brooklyn moon cafe, gmhc's barbershop, klmo-fm, lgbt community services center, longmoor productions, nuyorican poets cafe, our corner, poz, pulse, rolling out new york, rush arts gallery, saint veronica's church, schomburg center for research in black culture, sexplorations, the citizen, the new york times, the soundz bar, the trenton times, the village voice, upn news, uzuri, venus, vibe, wbai-fm, wnyc-fm & wqht-fm. volunteered with adodi, bailey house, inc., black men's xchange-new york, colorofchange.org, drug policy alliance, east harlem tutorial program, imagenation film & music festival, presente.org, save darfur coalition, the enough project, the osborne association, the sledge group & your black world. worked on films with maurice jamal & heather murphy. writing student of phil bertelsen & ed bullins. mjt975@msn.com.

Thursday, June 02, 2005

I'm On My Way: But Where Am I Going?

Today is the first day I post to my new blog site, which is currently under construction, though I'm not clear who will do the real work. I've wanted a blog site for well over a year. Why did it take so long? I tend to operate on fear, no matter how loving my intentions are. My fears of commitment, exposure & responsibility have ruled as long as I can remember: pain is a memory. Can I go back to sleep now?

Seriously folks, I'm excited about the opportunity to finally (!) create, discover, express, learn, re-learn, struggle & try something new in the ever expanding global community. Who knows where my heart will lead? I'm addictted to certainty; as such, I trust God will bless me in this endeavor. Still, the idea of maintaining this site is overhelming: at the age of 44, I don't want to grow up, I'm a toys r' us kid.

I'm so lazy I don't want to get up to use the bathroom. But don't get it twisted, I don't pee on myself. Not as an adult. As a child I had a serious bed-wetting problem which traumatized me fiercely. I'd wake up in a puddle of piss each morning, probably from drinking milk at three o'clock in the morning (don't ask), only to find myself too ashamed to do something as simple as take a bath or shower.

Is this too much information for an opening post?

Anyway, some of my brothers & sisters, a few of whom shared the same embarassing trait, would laugh at me. A deeply sensitive child, I felt humiliated. We lived across the street from the school we attended as kids, yet I was late for school EVERY DAY. When I got to school, the taunting continued, lowering my tenuous self-esteem. Some years ago, during an Oprah show featuring Iyanla Vanzant - one of my favorite people - she mentioned anger shows up in being late, and, the need to be right.

Damn, damn, damn...

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