|Not exactly what your great great grandma would have wanted for you…..|
Definition of SLAVE
In 2011, to say this to many Black women, that this is the life that I have chosen….they would like to revoke your Black woman card.
How dare I allow myself to be called slave, hand over my power to another, and remind this highly racially sensitive nation that there was a time someone who looked like me could actually BE a slave.
I say…..bite me, mind your own business, and if you think that we are NOT still slaves I have a bridge in Brooklyn that you can have for a very small fee.
Now yes I do understand the conflict with the mind your own business statement, since you would have no friggin clue who I was if I did not write here and advertise that writing, but I will get to that shortly.
If you have been here the past couple months I have touched on some things, and this is a way to delve just a little deeper. If I write here for 30 more years, I can never get to the ‘bottom’ of this life that I live, but hopefully the collective works will give a little clarity to those who may be confused, or curious.
In the 60’s and 70’s women burned their bras in the streets and demanded that they be recognized as equals.
I don’t think that I am anyone’s equal.
There are oh about 6.8 billion people I think that I am better than, but I don’t think that I am anyone’s equal.
Equality is a myth that is impossible to obtain, and I stopped buying into that fabrication a long time ago. If you really really try equality? It is like running a 3 legged race, on the Olympic 100 yard dash stage. You are going to lose, and you are going to look stupid doing it.
In any adult relationship, there is no 50/50. At some point, even if it flip flops, someone has at the minimum 51. Once you understand that at some point ONE OF YOU IS IN CONTROL, you can then begin your understanding of why I embrace this life.
The specific Daddy/girl Master/slave relationship that I hope to build and live, is not as important as the recognition that there is no real quality, and that I am designed to be on the bottom.
Not every woman is but I certainly am.
A few years ago, I was explaining to a good friend why I felt as I did. I could say little more then other than it was the only thing that was right and natural for me.
I was raised first by my grandmother. She taught me that men ain’t shit. Yes I love you mom mom RIP…but that is what you taught me. I know some of where it came from, Thomas was a bit of a bastard if you believe the tales. I was then reared by my own mother …. who taught me to never rely on a man because men ain’t shit.
The men ain’t shit concept came from a source of pain and bitterness for both of them as they reflected on a life unfulfilled. The mistake was that they told this to a little girl who idolized her father…even in his absence.
Their concept of what a woman should be – was witnessed by me and the one thing that I noticed? They had no man. For all of this talk about what a woman should be to her man…there were no men around to confirm this theory. My semi logical mind rationalized…..hmmmmmmm maybe I should NOT be like them and I can get a man.
Mind you, these women showed me how to cook and clean and present as a lady….things women do to attract men…but the day to day living with a man the keeping him portion was lost on them.
Men are not complicated creatures.
During the feminist movement, women were so busy trying to be equals that some of us forgot how to be women.
The art of being a woman and allowing a man to be a man has been lost and like sexy, I hope to bring it back.
Even if your man is not super duper Domly Dom Dom Dom man with a “D” on his chest he still pees standing up. Men are designed for a purpose (most of them) and denying them that purpose will get you lots of cold nights with an empty bed.
Being so fast to assert your equality, will leave you equally lonely.
It is not what you say but how you say it, how you live it that will make the difference.
I got that while my women folk were on their men aint shit tirade and set about developing a system that would not have me telling me that to my daughter.
I am the example of the woman who does not need a man. But I want the one that I have.
That means going back to the little girl and remembering that previous course of action.
For me it is not all that simple, my life has evolved that I had no other option but to be a bra burner. Even though I did not want to.
Health Department? 17 fresh out of high school. If I wanted to be taken seriously? I needed to be hard.
Police Department? Para military organization top heavy with White males and I was Black female civilian…..I needed to be hard.
AFSCME? Top heavy with Black males who historically did not previously have a lot of power….I needed to be hard.
And that is just a hint of what the workforce did for/to me. That is not counting all of my other life experiences.
Over and over I have had to ignore the lessons that I knew to be true as a little girl, and embrace new ones that were 180 degrees from where I am happiest.
Then someone showed me a pair of nipple clamps, and I was able to begin to reclaim myself.
The transition from hell on wheels to submissive female to slave is not a simple one. It is one that I still struggle with, simply because when I am not with HIM I still have to be hell on wheels. It’s made for some interesting moments – understatement.
The first lesson then in the Freedom Ride series is know who you are and where you are happy.
Me? I am happiest being bottom bitch…
We can talk about this some more in part two though – right now I have an appointment with a Dominant I like to call: the sandman.