NEED FRIENDS TO MOVE...

As promised... I'm out of here.

It's been real blogger. (Well...it hasn't. Thanks for dropping most of my pics with the upgrade. Jerk.)

So at the urging of some friends, I actually went ahead and moved over to my very own site...

BLACKPEOPLEDONT.COM

So for any new posts... that's where you'll see em! 

-Nye 

Oh and Blogger... 

Black Moses Barbie...The Series

Since slavery is hot right now, I NEED you to see this.

From the brilliant (and damn hilarious) mind of artist Pierre Bennu...



I give you the "Black Moses Barbie" Trilogy.



What is it? Well, it's a set of fictional toy commercials for ... well.  Nevermind.
You'll see. And it's so much better if you just SEE it.


(WARNING: Any water in your mouth will be spit out... trust me.)



PART 1:

PART 2:

And finally... PART 3...

For more on artist Pierre Bennu, PLEASE visit EXIT THE APPLE. You won't regret it. At all.

KWANZAA:...THE END (Kuumba & Imani)

Kuumba (Creativity): To do always as much as we can, in the way we can, in order to leave our community more beautiful and beneficial than we inherited it.

Imani (Faith): To believe with all our hearts in God, our people, our parents, our teachers, our leaders, and the righteousness and victory of our struggle.

Bet you thought I didn't finish eh?

WELL I DID!!

And well...I hate to rub it in, but it's pretty safe to say that King QT has thoroughly blessed our Kwanzaa. 

I mean, I REALLY hate to say "I told you so..." but umm...yeah. I did.

(I don't really hate to say it. Actually, I love saying it. It's awesome. Feels great.) You saw the movie. Your friends saw the movie. Louis Farrakhan saw the movie...and loved it. I think he's earned his crown. You know why.

I'm just going to knock two things out with one entry here. I don't really have to "Kuumba" because this whole experience has been Kuumba. However, there is one thing I learned about the creative process this time around that I think I skipped before. 

Do what amuses you. 

Sounds so simple, right? But do we ever? The biggest, bravest part of doing what amuses you, what you have absolute passion for...is being ridiculed for it.

Sure there was a chance that the Kwanzaa cake would have been a disaster. 

There's a chance that the stream of consciousness of "Purpose" would have come off too spiritual and icky and turned off some people. 

There's a chance that one entry would get hundreds of views and others... five. (Yes, this happened.) 

But who gives a shit? Not I.  I had a ball the entire time and not a single fuck was given. THAT is what it's all about. 

And in that spirit, I would like to address "Imani" and the focus of it...which is overcoming struggle.  

...Which I totally disagree with. 

Think about it. Which would you rather do? Laugh or frown? Celebrate or hate the fact that you're not celebrating?

So, no. I don't think we  should focus on struggle. I think we should focus on the opposite of struggle. 

We should focus on strength and endurance.

Is that all you got?!!

See, because what you focus on is what you get more of.  So if you focus on struggle...you're going to get more of it. 

Focus on strength and you'll find you'll get more of it. Focus on happiness and you'll find it's all around you. 
Focus on being responsible for your own happiness and eliminating phrases like, "He makes me so mad." 

No. You do. You're the one in charge of your emotions. 

Take responsibility.

Can't find a job? Maybe focus on FINDING A JOB because you've been focusing on NOT BEING ABLE TO FIND ONE. 

Get it? 

It's like looking through a totally different set of lenses. 

Tomorrow is going to suck? Why of course it is. What if you changed your language though? 

Tomorrow is going to be the best it can possibly be. 

Feel the shift? 

Go ahead. I'll help. 

Fill in the blanks with your normal script. You know, that thing you bitch about? Your man. Your woman. Your job. Your baby momma. Your kids. Your boss. Fill it in as you normally would. 

Go ahead. Knock it out.  

"But Nyree, you don't understand. My _____________________ is so _______________________ and it's just   ___________________________.  I am so ready to _____________________________. " 

Got it? 

Awesome. NOW... we'll "flip the script".... as the old heads say. 

It's the same thing but this time, we'll focus on the positive aspects of it. Need to borrow a script? Here you go.

"But Nyree, you must understand. My situation is so simple to correct and it's just a matter of ME making that decision . I'm so ready to do whatever the hell it is I have to so to change it." 

Imani'd. POW. 

So... what did I learn this Kwanzaa?

That I need to write more. That I need to do what amuses me. My purpose. That I am responsible for my own happiness and that QT's brilliance, isn't a fluke. (Thank GOD!) 

And neither is yours.

-Nyree 


And I know...I know...the Switzerland post. It's coming...it's coming. 

KWANZAA DAY FIVE: COME LIVE YOUR NIA!

Nia (Purpose): To make our collective vocation the building and developing of our community in order to restore our people to their traditional greatness.

Y'all STILL waiting for Love Jones 2 huh? Yeah. Me too.

Ahh...purpose. 

That's the big question, isn't it? "What's my purpose? What's my purpose?" 

A little over a year ago, I helped to build a church  that actually SANG that before the services started. (Click the lyrics to sing along.)

"I am learning to live
Learning to be
All that I am
More than I see

Moving forward 
To my destiny 
Come take this journey with me

There's no better time to start than now... 
There's no better time to star than now...

Come live your purpose! 
Show us your greatness! 
The world is waiting! 
Show us your greatness! 

There's no better time to start than now..." 


Awesome song eh? 

And that's all well and good...singing that every Sunday, what if you have NO FREAKIN' IDEA what your purpose is? 

But let me back up and talk about this church for a minute. 

First off, it was co-founded by two young black men. One gay and one a single dad. 

Let that sink in. 

They called a meeting and told everyone "We're going to open a church." 

And I sat in this meeting (knowing them both from our former church) squealing with excitement and telling them how wonderful it was and offering support...which they gladly accepted. 

Then we asked when they planned on opening this church. 

"In a month." They said. 

In a month. A new church. That would rely on teachings of all faiths, that wouldn't succumb to dogma, that would be the "hip church". They were planning on having service in a month. 

Four weeks. 

I just started laughing. Like, uncontrollably. 

"This is my purpose," Rodney, a co-founder said. "And I'm living it." 

And let me tell you what happens when you are in the presence of somebody who is living their purpose. YOU. GET. HYPE. 

You turn into a Sister Act montage. You start cleaning and waxing shit while singing along. Dancing with brooms, happily handing out flyers. You don't even stop to THINK that you might be on board the crazy express and the shit has left the station. 

But they weren't crazy. Expansion Church DID in fact, open in a month in an (get this) abandoned firehouse...that was quite fun actually. They then moved on to a bigger and better space and one of the co-founders persued other projects, but that's not the point. 

Rodney and Greg KNEW they had to co-found and create it. They did it. And they were awesome for it. 

Expansion has been going strong for one whole year. You can check out their one year anniversary video below.

Now,  participating in the growth process of that church, (why do y'all keep looking at me like that when I say I helped build a church? What? I'm very fucking spiritual thank you very much!) I believe I've more than Nia'd. I think I've Nia'd enough for a couple of years. I have some left over Nia if you'd like it. 

But that word "Purpose" still bugs me. I started thinking....what is my purpose? 

Unlike Iyanla, I can't answer that like a soulful robot, I needed to do some digging. 

So I searched the Internet. 

Yes. I searched the Internet for my purpose. 

I didn't find it. 

(Shocker.) 

What I did find was an exercise and if you haven't found yours, I highly suggest you do this along with me. 

It's a free write and it's simple. You're just going to write "What Is My Purpose?" at the top of any piece of paper/word processing document and then you'll start writing. 

And you're not going to stop until you whatever you write makes you very...very emo. I mean like, make you cry emo. 

And I know, black people (especially the men) don't like being all emo. We're tough! We survived slavery and Jim Crow! But please, put your thug down for 20 minutes (I promise, you can collect it when you're done) and try this. 

Not tomorrow. Not when you're done reading this blog. 

NOW.  

Now remember... DO. NOT. FUCKING. STOP.  WRITING. UNTIL. YOUR. THUG. HITS. THE. GROUND!

Nah..nah. I'm good Yo. I'm good. 

If you're afraid to do it, that's OK. It's fine. It it helps you feel better...I did it too and I'm more than happy to share it with you (which turns out...is my damn purpose. Tricky. Very tricky this purpose thing.)  By the way, I did not stop until I got it. 

 And you WILL get it. 

A light bulb will go off. A bolt of lighting. A fucking nuclear bomb. 

And then you will know. 

And if you carry that purpose with you... and live that purpose without fear, throughout the new year and beyond, I promise you...I PROMISE you... you will not be disappointed. 

Ready? 



WHAT IS MY TRUE PURPOSE IN LIFE?

I am here for a reason that I have yet to figure out. The thing is, I can't stop writing until I figure it out. I'm here to experience all the things and let people know they are not to be afraid of them. Which means at times, I will have to scare myself shitless. I will look down the barrel of the gun and say with steely resolve "Pull the fucking trigger if you're a man." I'll walk away from the love of my life just so I can see if there's any such thing as coming back. And when he dies, I will know a part of me did as well. And I can tell you that happened. I can hug a girl who I know moved a little too fast. I can tell a child it's OK to be angry. And confused. I am here to make mistakes, get back and up and keep making them. I'm here to piss you the fuck off. To keep operating from that place deep within. I am here to walk the fuck away from toxic people and ignore phone calls even though every ounce of my ego tells me to pick up the phone and don't grow. I'm here to get addicted. To cigarettes. To alcohol. I'm here to successfully kick them both. I'm here to get fat. To get skinny. To become vegetarian. To become pescatarian. To wolf down bacon cheeseburgers. I'm here to make friends. To end friendships. To make love. To break a heart. To be heart broken. To fall in love over and over and over. To have long term relationships. To have affairs. To admit that you can't turn love on and off. To learn. To practice what I preach. To dance. To sing. LOUDLY. To be swept off my feet and treated like dirt at the same damn time. I'm here to wear make up. I'm here to slide down a wall, heaving when I remember the cruel shit adults can do to a child. I'm here to endure sexism. I'm here to endure racism. I'm here to make jokes about both of them. I'm here to make motherfuckers really uncomfortable when they hit on me. I'm here to make you believe you're hotter than you really are. I'm here to be a fantasy for people to masturbate to.  I'm here to intimidate. I'm here to surf porn. I'm here to be a slob. I'm here to be neat. I'm here to be young. I'm here to grow old. I'm here to chronicle every fucking year of this life as long as I have pen/word processor/pencil & paper. I'm here to tell stories. I'm here to show people that growing up in the Bronx ain't so bad. I'm here to see Paris. I'm here to almost die in Costa Rica.  Three times. I'm here to lie. To be honest. To wear heels. To have five pairs of sneakers all for different reasons. I'm here to get all the things. I'm here to give away all my shit. Did I mention Africa? I'm here to see Africa. I am here to reach enlightenment. I'm here because my friends aren't and through me, they always will be. I'm here to bring epic tales to the public. I'm here to get folks thinking differently. I'm here to say it. I'm here to help. I'm here to be selfish. I'm here to lay in a bathtub and meditate. I'm here to question God's existence. I'm here to be an atheist.  I'm here to hold on to God for dear life. I'm here to give hugs when I can. Get them when I need them and curse a motherfucker out even when I know I could probably handle shit better. I'm here to be bad. I'm here to be blunt. I'm here to create. I'm here to create so much shit that I can't sleep. I'm here to say the things you can't. I'm here to stand up for myself. I'm here to stand up for you. I'm here to live this shit out...for as long as possible. I am here to be full of fear. I am here to be fearless. I am here to laugh. I am here to live...and to live...and live..and give you permission to fucking LIVE by example. 



NIA! POW!!

OK Kwanzaa...I see you. I see what you're doing here..

 Today we...Kuumba (Creativity): To do always as much as we can, in the way we can, in order to leave our community more beautiful and beneficial than we inherited it.

Let's get it done!

KWANZAA DAY THREE: UJIMA?! The Kwanzaa Cake Strikes Back!

Riddle me this Batman...why do we even need a Kwanzaa cake?

Huh?

Is there some part of Kwanzaa that rewards us with cake? Is that why we're here? For the cake?
Do we get to eat it on the seventh day or whenever we feel like it? How does that work?

Sure, we went ahead and clowned Sandra Lee's Kwanzaa Cake, right? But we never did answer those tough questions. First being, did we ever try to make one?

Not really.

So as far as I'm concerned, we're part of the problem.

...Da fuck?

We let this foolery go on too long and now...there's tee shirts. Folks are bringing mock Kwanzaa cakes to office parties. It's a mess.

This...

...is all our fault.

So since this Kwanzaa is about to owning up to our own shit...I'm calling us out.

How are you (we) going to just let Sandra Lee do this to the Kwanzaa cake and not do something about it?!

But before we tear Sandra and ourselves a new one...let's just answer the question...

 What exactly is a Kwanzaa cake supposed to be?

 Nobody's ever really defined it...and thats the problem when you don't define traditional foods for yourself. Somebody will come along and do it for you. But I already bitched about that a few years ago.

THIS blog post isn't about bitchin. It's about solution!

So I decided to take some action and help my brothers and sisters out (UJIMA!) by making ...
MY OWN DAMN KWANZAA CAKE!

But this time, I wasn't going to use ingredients we'd never, ever buy.

...OK. Maybe the chocolate. We'd buy the chocolate.

I mean, I really put some thought into this cake and it doesn't matter if you're from the North, the South, or the Caribbean... there's a little something in there for everyone.

HOWEVER, before I get to mine, I have to give a huge shout out to Jamyla Bennu, owner and creator of Oyin Handmade for sharing her picture of HER amazing Kwanzaa Cake...which is a gotdamn red, black and green Kwanzaatastic masterpiece!

Honey Momma got SKILLS!

Amazing right? If you want to know how she did it... head on over to the OYIN blog. 
Man listen. That looks like some shit I want to eat immediately! And it's got "black power" packed in every moist, delicious bite!

Can't lie...when I saw her cake, I was a little intimidated.  I thought "Wow, it's going to be hard to beat that one..." But hey. It's not a competition!  We're all in this together just trying to right a terrible...terrible wrong. JB did an incredible job with the colors  (may The Kwanzaa King bless all artists) whereas, I went a totally different route. I just ignored the colors altogether  (sort of) and went straight for content.

So, without further adieu...Kwanzaas and Kwanzettes... here's my contribution to the culture.

May I present for your consideration..

The Official 

Red Velvet Pineapple Rum Right (on!) Side Up Cake 

with Sweet Potato Hennessy Coconut Cream Cheese Frosting 

Kwanzaa Cake Kake!!!

That's right. Something for everybody. 


See, maybe your problem on...umm...Kwanzaa cake day.... is that you only eat Red Velvet Cake. No problem.  Maybe you think Sweet Potato Pie or Cheese Cake is the best desert ever and if you don't get some on Kwanzaa cake day....shit is about to go down! I got you.  

Or perhaps your grandma's Rum Cake/ Coconut Cake/ Pineapple Upside down Cake makes you feel all warm and fuzzy. Or maybe you're an alcoholic. (Hey...I don't judge.) Perhaps you just skip desert altogether and just chillax with (yet another) nice glass of brown liquor in the form of Henny.  
You think Sandra Lee was thinking about you like this? Nope. Not with some damn angel food cake and canned pie filling. 


Want to make it yourself?  Of course you do. And when you do, make sure you serve it on Ujima, and save yourself some Kwanzaa grief. After all, this day is about helping out your brothers and sisters. Making their problems your problems. Now, if you're anything like me... you've got enough. You may not necessarily be able to help them out and make their problems your problems. Buuuuut....you can give them a nice heaping slice of The Official Red Velvet Pineapple Rum Right (on!) Side Up Cake with Sweet Potato Hennessy Coconut Cream Cheese Frosting Kwanzaa Kake!! and have them tell you all about it, while giving the appropriate amount of sympathy. 

How? 

Step One: Serve Cake. (Can't nobody be mad at ya.) 
Step Two: Nod.
Step Three: Say, "You", "He", "She", "Your Finances" etc, ...are in my prayers". 
Step Four: DON'T SAY ANOTHER WORD. 

So how does it taste? Boozy and chewy and moist and confusing as shit. If you know somebody with "Sugar", you might not want to give them a slice. Unless you want to get rid of them. 



OK...here's how to make it.


Step One: Gather Your Stuff 

Get all this: 

• Red Velvet Cake Mix
• Vanilla Pudding 
• Coconut Milk
• Pineapple Slices
• A small bottle (or big bottle...hey...I don't judge) of Henny
• A small bottle (or...you know) of dark rum
• Butter
• Eggs 
• Veg Oil
• (canned) Sweet Potatoes 
• Unsweetened Coconut Flakes
• Brown Sugar (1 cup)
• Cream Cheese Frosting

Step Two: Old School. 

 You're going to cook it in this: 

Old Fashioned Husband Checker

Why a cast iron skillet? Because that's what our ancestors baked in. They didn't have fancy-smanchy non-stick T-Fal nonsense. A skillet. Only one. And they cooked EVERYTHING in there. This cake is no exception.  Now preheat your oven to 350 degrees and trust me. 

Step Three: Pack, Melt, Spread.

 Pack a cup of brown sugar. Melt a whole stick of butter in the bottom of the skillet on low heat. Stir in brown sugar. Marvel at how insanely bad for you this cake is going to be. Swallow your feelings.


Step Four: Twisted Fruit

Get the Pineapple slices drunk.
Pour the rum over them and let it all sink in together.

Lay the drunk pineapple over the brown sugar and butter.

Then add some coconut flakes...(I know. I said unsweetened. I still mean that. I picked up the wrong one. Whatever...the show must go on. MO SUGAR! MO SUGAR! MO SUGAR!)

Step Five: Come Together...Right Now...over me.

Make your cake batter. Pour the Red Velvet cake mix into a bowl but ignore the package instruction. You need something sturdy enough to support the pineapple upside down (that will end up Right (on!) Side Up.). Use the box recipe and your cake will fall apart.

Instead, add four eggs, one cup of water, a half cup of veg oil and one package of vanilla pudding mix.

         

        

Get your mixer out and....

...for about 3-4 minutes.

Step Six: Pour It On Me

Pour batter into the skillet and put it in the oven for one hour...

Step Seven: Squish!

Play with your child's big ass cheeks when they keep coming to kitchen to see what you're doing.

Step Eight: Make the frosting! 

Combine all the Cream Cheese Frosting with even mo' whipped cream cheese (about a 1/4 cup), 

puree the sweet potatoes until silky smooth, add two or three tablespoons of coconut milk (depending on how thick you want your icing) and Henny to taste. Combine to taste.  Mix and taste...mix and taste...mix and taste...

Step Nine: Flip it! 

After an hour...remove the cake, flip it... pray because it's edges look like yours on a hot day and ... pow. Red Velvet Pineapple Upside down cake! But don't leave it like that. Let it cool on a rack then flip that bitch back over. Why? Because it's a "Right (on!) Side Up" Coconut cake! 

Trim the edges with a VERY sharp knife. Once you get those off...your cake is damn near perfect. 

FINAL STEP: 

Frost. Cover with coconut and add the  DECENT SIZED Kwanzaa candles that don't resemble dildos. 

Take pictures and curse the fact you're not a food photographer because in real life, this shit looks amazing...but here, it looks ghetto, but nothing is worse than Sandra Lee's cake so just bathe in that for a while.

Serve a big ass slice to whoever is in the house...and tell them they're in your prayers. And watch as the eyes roll back and the sugar rush takes over.  When they comment on the navy blue candles, you tell them candle makers are racist   there weren't any black candles... just eat the damn cake Ana Mae.

Problem solved. BOOM!

OK Kwanzaa...what's next?

Ujamaa (Cooperative Economics): To build and maintain our own stores, shops, and other businesses and to profit from them together.

Oh...I GOT this!! Not only do I GOT this...but I'll show you the best places to shop and get your Ujamaa on! (And if you have any black own business you'd like to give a shout out to...leave it in the comments! I'll be sure to include them!) 


-Nyree

KWANZAA DAY TWO: Kujichagaulia...(Ugh. ENGLISH MOTHERFUCKA, DO YOU SPEAK IT?!)

Doing this Kwanzaa thing is always all fun and games until.... (say it with ya chest!)

Kujichagulia (koo-jee-cha-goo-LEE-ah) Self Determination"To define ourselves, name ourselves, create for ourselves and speak for ourselves."
       1.  Who am I?        2.  Am I really who I say I am?        3.  Am I all that I ought to be? 

And the hard truth is, I had no idea what to write. And that's OK.

That's the problem when you pledge to do something EVERY. DAMN.  DAY.


I was going to say something about folks taking offense to what I've been writing.

Then I was going to talk about how my uncle had the nerve to tell me not to encourage my beautiful young cousin by calling her "gorgeous".
(What kind of "New Nigger Rule" is that? I'm not supposed to build up the self esteem of my family?
Keep that. She's not "Precious". We don't put our girls down.)

Then I was going to talk about how, the moment I got my new laptop, writers' block took a hold of my ass and wouldn't let go.

Then I was going to talk about how today while writing, I thought of my beautiful friend Erica Kennedy and got incredibly sad. Like, ridiculously fucking sad....and guilty.  About how I lied to her and told her I finished both her books.  (Sorry E. Though it  wasn't because I was mad about certain things & details leaking into "Feminista". I swear.)  I was going to write about her and the "all that I ought to be" thing, but it just became too much.

 I was going to talk about how "What did you do all day?" is not a question you want to ask a writer and not start a fight. Ever.

I also thought about addressing the "You can't be spiritual and say all the things you say..." bullshit shade I've been given by various Pro-Black Christians. (Pro-Black Christians invented shade. I'm convinced.)

Finally, I was going to talk about how I trash Kwanzaa every damn year, but every year I seem to find out more and more about myself, so aside from the stupid kinara (not available in Target or anywhere unless you're in Harlem...) or putting out produce... it's actually not bad for self reflection. So maybe I should own up to some of the things I said.

And then I realized...

I don't have to address any of it.  

That's not what this day is supposed to be about.  WHEW! I almost let that bullshit ruin my Kwanzaathon!

And this is when I wish Kid Fury was my friend in real life...because I'd call him up on the facetime immediately for a nice cup of steaming shade...(though he might call me a "fish" and we'd have to fight...but anyhoo...)

I'd say, "Kid... guess what I got in my inbox about my "Quentin is Kwanzaa King" post?"

And he'd say...

Oh really. Oh.. OK...OK.

This day is supposed to be about defining MYSELF. I'm supposed to be looking myself dead in the face and asking three questions. 

1. Who Am I? 

2. Am I Really Who I Say I Am? 

3. Am I All That I Ought To Be?

Until I figured these out, I couldn't really stick to my purpose. And had I known all this ahead of time...had I owned up to my shit...AH HA! You see?! You see how easy it is to fall into the "poor me" trap?! 

Anyway, back on the positive side of the street. 

So, today...I had to ask who I was. 

Clearly, I'm a motherfucker who loves cursing. Why? BECAUSE IT'S ENGLISH! Those words were created to add some jalapeno to your prose...so why don't more people use it?

(You all realize by now that gay black men are my spirit animals, right? Good.) 

Well,  sure, I'm a potty mouth and host of other things. But, the real question is. Am I really who I say I am? 

Well, I actually left that one up to the public. 

A while back, I asked folks to give me three words to describe me. Here's what they came up with. 

POW! That's exactly who I thought I was!! Brilliant! OK...so now for the third question. 

Am I All That I Ought To Be?

Is this a loaded question or what?! What if somebody asked you this? Who (aside from Oprah) can honestly answer "yes" to this? 

Shade.

Here's the thing... why can't I answer yes to this?
I mean, real talk (...hand clapping with each word type... *real* *talk*) WHY THE HELL NOT?

Why can't I recognize that I'm EXACTLY where I ought to be in this moment and then strive to get to the next moment? Why can't I just accept the choices that brought me to this place, recognize that I'm supposed to be HERE and then move on from this point?

The thing is... I CAN. Which means my answer is "Yes."  Yes...

BUT...I can say yes knowing there is more that's required of me...and that's called "Purpose". But we'll get to that in a bit.

Oh...you see what I did there? I JUST KUJICHAG... KUJICHAGAU... whatever, you know what I mean.  I'm not looking it up. Not my fault.  Shit should be in English.


Well, however you spell it...I just did it.


...In my fucking footsie pajamas. Boom.

Don't front. You want a pair. 

NEXT UP...

Ujima (Collective Work and Responsibility): To build and 

maintain our community together and make our 

brothers' and sisters' problems our problems, and to 

solve them together.

HA!!! Oh...my friends. THIS shit should be good.  Stay tuned...


-Nyree

Oh...and if you were dying to play that video in the FB grab... you're absolutely right to want it. Here you go. Get ALL the way down with...Carl Carlton.

(Hmm... Nyree Nyreeton... nah. Doesn't work.)