“Actually, in all honesty, I don’t even know where my uterus specifically is,” says Danielle from Knotty Yarn, “but I imagine it’s somewhere in the…middle..part…of the torso. Near the other pipes and tubes that..regulate…stuff.” When I heard Danielle tell the story at BlogHer, I laughed because she was really funny and she was a great storyteller. At the same time, the more I thought about it, I wondered how many of my other female compatriots didn’t understand where their uteri and clitorises were. Soooo … Because every woman and girl should know what she looks like below, here’s a video. Clip courtesy of Betty Dodson and Carlin Ross. Love their tagline: “Liberating Women One Orgasm at a Time.” If the clip above doesn’t load, view it on YouTube.
From the category archives:
About Women
Reading the transgendered piece on BlogHer reminded me I never wrote about attending and speaking at the their annual conference. Quite honestly, initially, I worried the vast majority of attendees would be mommybloggers and I thought I — a New York-dwelling, single, avidly childfree, funky brown chick — would be the odd woman out :( I didn’t really know what to expect. I’d met Elisa Camahort Page on previous occasions, but I didn’t know her very well nor had I yet experienced the pleasure meeting Lisa Stone and Jory Des Jardins in person. Also, it was my first BlogHer annual conference; so, I thought I’d have a good time at a nice event for passionate mommybloggers doing great things in business and online, but that would be it.
I’m happy to report the conference was even better than I thought it would be. Sessions included “Women of Color and Marketing,” LGBTQ roundtables and other diversity-centered talks. The shindig (and corresponding parties!) were well-organized, high-quality, informative and FUN. I’d undoubtedly forget a few events if I tried to list each of my favorites; so, I won’t. However, I definiltey wanted to blog about my FAVORITE part of the conferece — The Community Keynote. Instead of reserving the floor for a big shot, well-known speaker, this particular piece of the conference highlights ordinary women navigating extraordinarily human experiences. Stories included: Issa‘s heart-breaking tale about her mentally ill, homeless Uncle Marky; Karen Walrond’s inspiring Reflections On Why the Election of Barack Obama Affected Me So Deeply; Sheri Reed‘s brutally honest piece “Amends” about alcoholism; and Danielle Henderson‘s funny story about a multi-day trial of a tampon lodged in her vagina after having sex with her husband. The latter didn’t go to the doctor for nearly a week because, “In my family, going to the doctor to have a foreign object removed from your body is a total ‘dick move’.”) Watch the entire Community Keynote below:
Also, be sure to check out my co-panelists’ fabulous blogs!! They’re online: The Pioneer Woman, Ree Drummond; social media guru Laura Roeder; and veteran online marketer Susan Getgood)
Yesterday, Simone Grant and I met up w/ each other in Midtown West. (She’s on Twitter, so am I if you want to follow.) We started telling each other New York online dating horror stories. We’ve both gone on dates with dudes who looked SIGNIFICANTLY different from their online dating profiles. “I once wrote about that in my Nerve column,” I told her. “I think I titled the piece ‘Truth in Advertising’ or whatever and the first line was something like, ‘You should look like your fucking picture!!!’” We laughed and giggled about men who show up and are virtually unrecognizable from the images they post online. Sticking with the topic, I figured I’d write about online dating profile pics on Funky Brown Chick today because I recently forwarded my matchmaker a few photos. Here’s the the inside scoop on why I selected the pictures I did:
This is what I look like when I wake early on a Saturday morning to meet Rachel for cupcakes at Billy’s Bakery. I’m not wearing any makeup and I didn’t curl my hair. It’s an au natural snapshot taken within the last year or so. Managing expectations, you know? I’m not high maintenance. If a guy is turned off by the photo above, he probably won’t like looking at me in real life either. If he thinks the photo is cute, he’ll probably think I’m cute in person, too.
That said, yes, I often wear make up and curl my hair. When I do, I look like this photo. Given I’m likely to do that whole “woman grooming” stuff for the first date, it’s likely I’ll look like this when my Matchmaker’s pick(s) meet me.
I like to wear dresses.
A lot. Like, you know, all the time. Really, I do.
Seriously, I only own 2 – 3 pairs of jeans and 1 pair of pants. If you’ve met me or if you scroll through my Flickr photos, you’d be hard-pressed to remember me wearing anything much else than a skirt or dress on regular occasions. Plus, because the final three pics above are recent full body shots (no photoshop, taken within the past three months), the guy will get an idea of my height-weight proportions. No wonder when Funky Brown Chick readers meet me in person, they often say, “Wow, you look exactly like your pictures.” So, there you have it! I think the Matchmaker is forwarding my images to guys within the next week or so. I’ll keep you posted :)
When I was young and stupid and Eurailing my way through Europe, I bought a white marble mini-statue of two naked dudes — one on his feet and the other in the air. The guy standing has the full length on the other dude’s body balanced against his. The upside down man is wearing a crown and, ahem, he’s grabbing the upright guy’s penis. “Ooooohhhh mmaaaahh gaawwd!!!” I screamed, “I have to have it!!! I HAVE TO!!!” The skinny Italian dude with a thick accent on the piazza had a bunch of stuff for sale, but he only had one statue of the two dudes. “How much is it?” I asked. Sensing I was young and stupid (which, as already mentioned, I was) he responded: “How much money do you have?”
This was the pre-Euro days of yore, when wallets were lined with Deutschmarks, Guilders, Francs and Pesetas. Italy had currency with many many zeros on it, and I told the guy I had something 5,000,000,000,000,000 lire. (If I remember correctly, that was the equivalent of $2.50. I exaggerate. Slightly. Anyway.) So, then the Italian dude’s like: “Um, that’s not enough.” I tell him I don’t have any more cash on me. So, Mr. Italiano motions toward the Bancomat and he’s like, “You can go get some more money there.” Being young and stupid, I ask: “How much more money should I take out?” The Italian dude, perhaps amused my my naivety, says: “Give me whatever you have.” Armed with the knowledge that the statue of a dude grabbing another dude’s precious jewels simply MUST be mine, I run across the street to follow the man’s orders and withdraw waaaay too much money. “Here,” I return and hand him a fistful of bills, “take this!!” He did take my money. And, in return, he gave me this:
Four countries, eight cities and exactly twelve years later, I still have this mini-statue. Today, I moved it from my old apartment to the new one. I’ve never known what it depicts, but I adore it. It reminds me of Italy — of a land I loved and a time when I didn’t care that I was young and stupid.
I’m a fan of male homoerotic art. If one man is great, two men together is even better!! So, I have a double feature question for you today, dear readers: (1)Does anyone know what hell scene and/or which historical figures the mini-statue depicts?* (2) Whether you’re male, female, gay, straight or some semi-combination of two or more of the aforementioned, tell me: Does guy on guy action turn you on? If not, tell me why. If so, what do you like best about it?
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Big kisses to Santagati for solving my mystery. It’s a statue of Hercules and Diomedes — history of the original, another replica and a pic on Flickr
Oh yes, my sweeties, today’s Manly Monday pick — weekly celebrations of everything manly — is/are: White Men. (You knew this was coming, right?) I got the idea to write about white guys in particular after receiving the following email from a Funky Brown Chick reader:
Hi Twanna,
Not sure if this constitutes [a request for] dating advice but here it goes…
I read your blog often and I notice that you date all races of men. I have only dated black men but I am interested in dating men of other races. Problem is, I do not know how to meet them, or at least I don’t know how to meet ones that are interested in dating black women. I feel like I see enough of them on the daily at work or happy hour but it seems as if they don’t even look at me as a dating prospect [...]
If it will help you to answer the question, I am a 28 year old [job redacted] living in Baltimore. I enjoy cultural events and people who are diverse in their lifestyles and ideas.
Hope that helps.
[name redacted]
Ah, we all know how I feel about dating advice / dating experts. That said, I’m gonna take a stab at this one because: (1) I think it will be fun and (2) I thought I’d share my wealth of knowledge since I’ve dated a lot of white dudes, Latinos, half the countries in Western Europe, a Moroccan guy, black Americans, and … whatever … the list is too long. Anyway. If you’re a brown-skinned woman who wants to date Dudes of Different Ethnicities (DDEs), here are a few TOTALLY “politically incorrect” tips.
SOCIALIZE. If you want to meet new men period (whether black, white, Vietnamese or any other ethnicity), you gotta go to the right venues. Generally speaking, sports venues attract a higher percentage of dudes … just like, say, nail salons attract more women. I have one word for you: SOFTBALL. If your job, church and/or city has a community league, join it. In Baltimore, I know there’s the Baltimore Sports & Social Club. If you don’t like softball, try golf, tennis, rugby, water polo or lacrosse tournaments to meet all different kinds of guys. STAY AWAY FROM HOOPS!!! Because we all know who plays basketball!!!! ;) Say you don’t like sports? No problem. Go to political networking stuff. Though there are exceptions, right-wing nutjobs aren’t necessarily known for loving brown-skinned women. Go left: Obama groups, Drinking Liberally, MoveON or book readings at independent bookstores. You’ll find scores of DDEs who are open to brown girls.
MOVE. You mentioned you live in Baltimore.You might have better luck in Seattle, Portland or San Francisco. Those cities are STUFFED with fair-skinned liberal folks who love brown-skinned people and will gladly tell you: “Some of my best friends are black.” ;)
LOOK ONLINE. There’s been a boom in interracial online dating sites. I mentioned this in an article I wrote for Mashable a while ago. Click here and see #3 for details.
LIGHTER OR WHITER, BUT NOT WASPY. Try to find your oppressed allies: The Scots. Puerto Ricans. Jews. Irish people. Italians. Generally speaking, they’ll understand prejudice, racism and discrimination better. This will greatly cut down on your “I Don’t Have Time To Tell A ___ Dude Everything He Needs to Know About Black Women” lesson planning.
There ya go, my dear! :) Kisses and good luck. Now, for the rest of you, feel free to leave additional tips, comments and other thoughts in the comments section. Ooh, ooh, ooh … and be sure to tune in tomorrow for my “How to Date a Black Chick” post.
I’ll talk about heartbreak in a sec. First, if you want to see me at 17-years-old wearing braces, floral tights and a sleeveless, pink shirt dress while dancing the mashed potato, running man AND the Thriller dance all in one go, behold the clip on my Facebook page. My friend Tina Cox uploaded it last night. She and I met as teenagers on the same pom pon cheerleading squad in Illinois; the recording is from one of our competitions. (By the way, Tina still dances & now she makes good dance music; listen to it.)
Ah, memories. Watching my toothpick legs do high kicks zapped me back to ages ago. When I was a teenager, I thought I’d get married by 23 because that’s people around me were doing. I already knew I didn’t want to have children when I got older, but I thought I might possibly adopt because, again, everyone else had children in their family so I figured I’d have to have them in mine. Also, I truly thought I was going to marry my college boyfriend. Strange, no? At one time, I thought I’d marry the guy; if I met him now, I wouldn’t give him a second date. It’s interesting the “life” I thought I’d live vs. the one I chose to pursue. Things certainly haven’t always happened the planned. And, thankfully, most of the times that’s been a good thing.
Now, let’s talk about this “heartbreak” stuff. Reminder: If you live in New York, come to Borders Bookstore at Columbus Circle tomorrow at 7pm. I’m reading my contribution to Six-Word Memoirs on Love and Heartbreak. Basically, I’ll quickly sum up my views about love lost and then read my entry for the book. Other lovely people who contributed stories will share, too. So, you’ll hear the sound of anonymous hearts breaking and/or being united in love. Should be fun. Hmmm … I guess I’ll end today’s post by asking YOU the two short questions I’ll answer during my short story at Borders tomorrow: How would YOU define heartbreak? Men, women, tell us: What is it about having love and losing it that makes it (at the time) so painful and (later) memorable?
I was told I’d be given riches and kisses in the most intimate places if I tell you all about a Netflix contest. Okay, so, maybe it wasn’t “exactly” riches ( … nor kisses … damn it! … it was just $50 but whatever … ). Here’s the scoop. Last Sunday, I read an email that tipped me off about a contest. “Recreate” your favorite film kiss, upload it to Netflix’s YouTube channel and win a trip. Good news? I looks like less than 200 people have signed up. They’re picking 3 finalists and 1 winner; so, your odds of winning are actually pretty decent. Bad news? The deadline is coming up quickly: 11:00 am PST, February 9. Yeah, like, next Monday. I know, I know. Sorry! If I knew sooner, I would’ve told you. I didn’t update my blog on Monday and I forgot to blog about it yesterday. Anyway. I want an FBC reader to win!!! Watch the video below for full details read their FAQ.
I’m such a fucking sap about this stuff. One of my favorite film kisses was from The Notebook. (((Le sigh))) Ah, who doesn’t love kisses? And cinema, too! I’m a HUGE movie freak. I’ve been to International Film Festival Rotterdam, Toronto, Chicago and a bunch of others. I even worked at Robert DeNiro’s Tribeca Film Festival (volunteered in ’06, was hired for pay in ’07) and volunteered at the Amnesty International Film Festival in Amsterdam. God, I love film. I soooo choke up every time I see that final scene in Cinema Paradiso. If you’re a cinephile and you haven’t seen that movie, rent it!
In case you wondered, the words smeared on the woman’s neck above, translated from French, reads: “A warm summer breeze tickles my neck like a soft blown kiss on my skin.” Kisses. On the neck, right above the collar bone / clavicle. I love that. Ooh, one of my other favorite spots to be kissed is the back of the neck, to the bottom right of of my hairline. Ummmm, here’s a lip-related question for ya: What’s your favorite place to be kissed? I’ve asked this question on the blog before, but we’ve got a few new commenters around here. So, I thought I’d give everyone another chance to whisper one of their secrets: Where do YOU like to be kissed most?
Love is in the air. Elsewhere. I live in New York City where “air” is urine-scented steam rising from manholes. That said, I’ve decided to write about “love” and (separately) “marriage” today. Let’s talk about five future brides, shall we? I stumble across Essence magazine’s Will You Marry Me? contest. “We offered 5 men the chance to propose,” the mag explains. Vote. The most popular couple wins $50,000. The female contestants? Proper black girls. Straightened hair. Polished. Appropriate. All very beautiful. I’m rooting for this woman. Recently diagnosed with multiple sclerosis, she: genuinely looks cute and happy with her dude; wears excellent sexy summer dresses; makes funny faces at cameras; and gets freaky-deaky(?) in hot tubs. I love it! What’s more? When her boyfriend proposes, the chick gets so nervous she acts downright quirky. Nervously flipping through a magazine, she darts her eyes around the room then says: “Huh? What the?” Video: 02:44. That’s awesome!
I imagine I’d react the exact same — if I believed in getting wed. Nope, kiddies. It’s just not for me; I don’t see the point of marriage. Few would tolerate its failure rate elsewhere. Imagine 50% of MTA trains crashed during rush hour, 50% of planes fell from the sky or 50% of NYC taxicab drivers knifed their passengers. If any of this occurred, alarms would sound. Clearly, something isn’t working. Right? Not the case with marriage. “It works, dammit! IT WORKS!!! For everyone!!! You’ve just gotta believe in it hard enough.” The assumption? Divorce is failure; however, sleeping next to someone in the same bed without fucking them for months, hell, even YEARS at a time is “success.” Being an adult, walking away from an agreement that once worked very well but no longer fits either party, is “quitting.” Sticking together through the bitter end — and, I mean BITTER fights, namecalling, cheating, loneliness, family feuds, unwanted children, etc. — is “commitment.” Let’s not pretend all marriages are perfect, shall we?
Racialicious gives it to you straight, “plenty of black people – I’d say most – are really committed to the idea of two parents and a stable marriage.” Nuh-uh. Not me. :) Don’t get me wrong. I’m not ANTI marriage, mind you. (Ditto for gay marriage. Whoever wants to marry should be able to marry.) For some, it works. When proposing to the awesome contestant I mention earlier in this post, her guy says, “You once asked me if I could meet anyone, who would it be. The answer is, and always will be, our children.” See? Beautiful. That’s love. I sincerely wish them the best in marriage. For me, for now, I’m okay being single and childfree. How about you? I check the demographic stats on my blog. Interestingly, most of you (54%) are men. Sexy white folks, gorgeous black people, Asian hotties and other lovely readers like getting down with the funky brown. Married, single and divorced people read this site. This blog is most interesting when people respectively disagree; so, tell me your answer to this question: Marriage. Is it worth it?
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Credit paid: Image pf hands is by Kostya Kisleyko.
