The "blue/all lives matter" crowd seem to have changed their tune this week.....

Good evening,

Let me jump right into it. No beating around the bush.

A young, blonde, white female was killed by a black male cop in Minneapolis.

After this tragic event occurred, I could not help but notice the reactions of the usual American conservative patriots were vastly different from the reactions of the past. You know. When innocent black men, women, or children are killed by white cops.

All of a sudden, these proud American conservative patriots were not screaming "blluuuueeeeee lives matter! Hey black person! ALL lives matter!"

All of a sudden, these proud American conservative patriots aren't attacking the character of the deceased as they usually do. They're not digging up old incriminating photos or stories about her. They're not screaming, "she should've abided by the law, her parents should've raised her better, she shouldn't have resisted, BLUE LIVES MATTER TOO DAMNIT!"

All of a sudden, these proud American conservative patriots aren't standing behind the cop and his actions as they usually do, screaming that he too, has a family that he wants to go home to and live another day. Suddenly, there is no mention that this guy is a hero for handling low life scum on the street on a daily basis and that he must shoot now and ask questions later.

All of a sudden, the usual narrative is flipped upside down on its head. Because the deceased is a white blond woman, she's not referred to as a thug. And because the cop who did the shooting isn't a white man, but a black man, he is now the bad guy. It doesn't even matter that he's a part of the blue brotherhood. He killed a white woman, whether she was in the wrong or not.

It doesn't help his cause whatsoever, that he is from Somalia. A country where most people are Arabic-speaking Muslims. I mean, if there's anything that American conservative patriots could possibly hate more than American-born black people, it must be foreign-born black Muslims. After all, I've seen these conservatives whining and demanding that this cop be deported back to Somalia. But wait a minute. Don't you have to be a legal American citizen to be considered a part of the blue brotherhood? Don't the same rules apply, even if the cop in question is a black guy from Somalia?

Apparently not.

So. What am I getting at?

All I know is that, the double-standard of racism could not be more clearly blatant than it is now. Now that the the tables have turned, now that the shoe is on the other foot, there is this great big outrage and outpouring of sympathy from American conservative patriots. Their minds are simply incapable that such an atrocity happened. They lament over the fact that she was an Aussie on the verge of getting married. The outpouring of sympathy for her fiance and other family members is deep and heartfelt. After all, this scenario is quite rare and almost always never happens in America or anywhere else in the world, period. The cops typically don't shoot white women, let alone black cops. White people in America are allowed to resist and fight cops as they're being arrested. Don't believe me? Check this out.....

https://youtu.be/daVhasi95c4

In case you don't want to click on the link, it's a clip of white people with weapons who do not get killed by the cops as black people WITHOUT weapons are sometimes killed instantly.

I can't help but draw parallels as well as stark differences between this particular incident and the reactions of when black men are shot and killed by the police; whether it be for a minor crime or worse yet....being black. There are usually grieving family members left to pick up the pieces. However, the American conservative patriot squad usually whines that the "thug's family is looking for a payday," even if the deceased black man was unarmed or living life as usual/not committing a crime. What the f...??? How does money replace a dead family member? Then when the cop in question is acquitted for the umpteenth time, cleared of all and any wrongdoing, the patriots focus on those in the black community who riot. Hell, even if you choose not to riot, you're still labeled as a racist for daring to stand up and speak out on it at all. I also can't help but notice certain white people on social media smugly saying that whites aren't looting and burning up their neighborhoods over this latest incident. DUH. Of course they aren't. It's not every day that a pretty blond white woman is offed by black cops. Hell, I'm trying to remember the last time any unarmed white woman not committing a crime was killed by ANY cop.

An American nightmare? I'd love to sit with the folks and tell them what a nightmare it can be, being black in America.

But now, a precious blonde white woman is dead; the world is in shock and in mourning. A black cop killed her. Fairly or unfairly still yet remains to be seen (sound familiar?). One can only wonder what his punishment will be. Will he be forced to resign from the force or will his white counterparts, the ones who usually protect the blue, see to it that he spends time behind bars? I know better by now than to ever think he's going to get away with this scot-free as white cops do when they shoot and kill black people. If he does, I will be seriously surprised because that's not how it works in Patriotic Conservative Americaland. Black people are never to get justice or experience a fair trial. Even if you're the police serving and protecting because the hatred against black people run that deep.

I can honestly say, unlike American conservative patriots about black victims, that I'm sad about what happened to this woman and even sadder for her family. I just read about the 911 calls and it appears she walked up unexpectedly on the cop as he arrived, shooting her as a reflex. What I'm about to say may sound harsh, but I make no apologies for saying it. Maybe, just maybe certain white people will realize just how incredibly traumatizing it is, to know how it feels when a cop murders your loved one. Only in this case, it appears to have been merely an accident when black men are shot on purpose. It was an accident; but this particular cop is ripe for the crucifying. Because he's black first, a cop second.

I could say much more, but this is enough. I've learned my lesson. When a black cop kills a white woman, he's automatically a bad guy by default and his blue life doesn't matter. Throw him in jail or send him back to his country. When he kills another black person, no one bats an eye or suggests he forfeits his American citizenship. Blue lives don't matter if they're black guys or black guys from other countries doing their job apprehending or shooting whites.

Got it. Lesson learned.


-Charmin

39 and never been loved....and I hate your advice.

I can't follow society's rules; was never made nor meant to act as others act. If you tell me to do something because everyone else is doing it, chances are that I will break my neck in an attempt to do it differently from everyone else. It is just the way I was made.

I want love. Unrelenting, unfailing romantic love. That kind of love where my man is always happily showing me off. That kind of love where he is just always gazing at me with obvious happiness dancing in his eyes and in his heart. The guy who appreciated that I can be listening to harp concertos, jazz, or gospel one moment and Outkast, Three 6 Mafia and Wu-Tang the next. That man who is not so easily annoyed by me and my quirks. He would be so into me that he'd want nothing more than for me to be all up under him and appreciate the fact that it's where I want to be. I would rather have this type of love and acceptance than millions in the bank.

I hate how people expect me to act all cold and aloof, as if I shouldn't want or desire it. But lo and behold, I am but a simple flesh and blood woman who desires monogamous male companionship. I can no longer fake the funk just because I fear what people may say. I've always prided myself on being the most real and true individual I can be. I'm not here to placate others or say what they want to hear.

I honestly can't tell you why it hasn't happened for me. I am a phenomenal woman. If I went into the reasons why, I'd be typing all night. I'm not at all conceited. Just humble with self-esteem high enough to know I'm worthy of the best love any good man has to give. I am also aware of my flaws and shortcomings because I keep it real. I could go into the single man shortage, but that's pointless and another argument altogether. 

Love. I have never felt it before. At least not romantic love. There have been at least two times in the past where I thought I was in love. However, the love wasn't returned, as I didn't fit whatever mold society demands us black ladies fit. So, I don't consider myself ever having been in love because it's never been reciprocal. Despite my deep approval of myself, I just don't look like what the average black man wants on his arm. To some of the men out here, I don't have enough education (although soon this will change). To other men, I'm not slender enough. To a certain type of man, I'm just good enough for a good time. I have so much love to give; an overabundance. All I've ever wanted to do is be the reason a man wakes up in the morning; his sole reason for laughing and smiling and doing the right thing.

Never has any man living made a concerted effort to lock me down and make me his. 

Truly, I know what it is to be eternally single. Fuck fat shaming, short shaming. There's nothing quite uniquely stinging like the stigma attached to a woman of nearly 40, unattached without children. You may believe some of the things people have said to me, although it doesn't make it any more polite or thoughtful.

"That's why you ain't got no man." This is usually said with the intent of throwing salt into a wound, I guess. That sentence implies that whatever I said or did that someone didn't like, usually culminates into this. Despite many women saying or doing much worse than I do having boyfriends and husbands. It's meant to make me feel bad about myself, but I never do.

"Maybe if you changed your appearance." Really? Sorry, not sorry that you disapprove of my appearance, but I actually happen to love how I look. A lot. If a man is into me only because I'm wearing the latest fashions and in the salon once a week, perhaps he's not for me.

And of course, all of the same regurgitated advice that I hear like a broken record. I do believe most people mean well when they say it, but my goodness, it gets so tired and old. I hate hearing:

"It's going to happen for you one day." I've been hearing it for the last 20 years. Mmm hmm. I wonder if I'll be hearing the same line right before I turn fifty.

"You're way too picky." Yes, by all means, bring me a handsome yet emotionally unavailable man with four kids by five different mothers and a tendency to step out and spend time with a side piece. That'll make life so much better and pleasant for me. At least I'll be able to say I have a man, right?

"If you keep looking, you're never going to find it." Now this one actually drives me crazy because I'm almost always never looking for it. It's assumed by most that I'm actively looking. I'm the type who wants to be found, discovered by a good guy. He who finds a wife finds a good thing, right? I'm old-fashioned and would rather be pursued by a man who's into the gender role-reversal that's so prevalent these days. I hate it when people presume that I'm so pressed for a relationship that I am looking at all men like a sailor through a periscope.

Yes, I know, I know. People are just being nice and encouraging.

People have incorrectly assumed that I want a relationship solely because others are in a relationship. Never that. I want it because it's what I want. It's something I want for myself because I've been single for so long. It's something I'd want even if everyone else in the world were single.

One of the things I hate most about being single is lack of physical contact. What woman/human doesn't want hugs, kisses, cuddles and sex all of the time? More than that, I simply find myself yearning for my back to be rubbed and caressed gently with love and support. Somehow, that seems to be one of the ultimate forms of meaningful and impactful affection to me. It would mean so much and feel so good to have a strong male hand touch my back to reassure me through these stressful times that I have to endure alone. A supportive cheerleader helping me out emotionally after stressful days of work and the impending start of college.

But day after day, year after year, I go without affection.

Without love.

I'd be lying, if I told you I weren't a little bitter as a result. Because I am. I know for a certain fact that I'd be a better person if I were loved. Life would be much more tolerable, nor would I be the object of anyone's pity. I need a good man to smooth out the rough edges I've acquired as a result of being single for so long. As much as I desire to be someone's rib, I've had no choice in my life but to be independent. It also sure would be nice to be a little dependent on a good man from time to time too. Someone to help me carry my heavy groceries up three flights of stairs for once. Someone who can tell me what's wrong with my car when it acts up. Someone who would be proud and happy and feel manly helping me knock out this rent and all of the other expenses of life. Someone I can call when I'm in trouble and would drop everything to help me out. That man who can make me laugh if I cry or otherwise had a bad day. The man who can have an argument with me and not hold a grudge and still want to be by my side regardless. That man who would binge-watch Queen Sugar with me before I watch sports with him. That guy who will wake me up early on Sunday morning so we can go to church together and enjoy dinner and a movie afterward, full of laughs and good times.

That, to me, would be love. The kind I unashamedly ask for.

Maybe God will send me someone that I won't have to chase. Someone who will find me such a delightful catch that they would prevent any other man from laying claim to me. As much as my faith is low when it comes to me finding love, my faith is indeed the size of a mustard seed. A tinier-than-usual mustard seed, but a mustard seed nevertheless. I have become more than impatient with the Lord's timing. But that's between He and I.

Pray that love finds me because I'm so tired of being single. I don't want to do it anymore. It's tiresome and lonely. No amount going out with friends and family and socializing will ever change how I feel, the deep void I feel inside. I promise if a guy loves me, I'll do whatever humanly possible to make him happy. Maybe one day I'll have the pleasure of writing about how it feels to truly fall in love for the first time and experience the raw beauty and splendor of it all.

I promise.


-Charmin

Dear bitchy women: what's your secret to keeping your man?

To the Women who've always gotten their way,

I need to know your secrets.

You know. How you're able to hold on to your man, no matter how snappy, rude, or demanding you may be.

I really would love to know how you're able to raise your voice, use a firm tone, withhold sex and affection, take him for granted, and do this knowing that he'll never leave your side.

I feel like if I were more bitchy as you are, the men would fall in my lap. I'm very sweet and caring at heart. That's not ever worked in my favor, though. I've tried being the bitch. Being the bitch doesn't seem to suit me. Yet, I watch you be a bitch and get everything you ask for, without question.

Those of you who speak to your husbands and boyfriends with love and respect, these questions are not for you.

This question is for those of you who haughtily issue commands to your significant others. You women who can publicly own your man and he says "yes baby" before breaking his neck to do your bidding.

What is so wonderful about you that he tolerates your behavior? Is your pussy lined with platinum, diamonds, and honey?

What's so special about you that he willingly takes care of your kids by one or more fathers?

How are you so cold and dismissive, yet he is willing to break the bank to satisfy your every need and demand?

I'm not being funny nor attempting to be humorous. I really want to know.

I've heard it said that men love bitches. Is that who I have to be to get a man?

Furthermore, what if I don't want to be a bitch? What if I want to be sweet, nice Charmin as I've always been? Am I destined to be forever single because of it?

Let's get something straight. I don't take no junk off NO man. However, for me, that's what seems to keep them away from me; the fact that I'm not putting up with their bullshit. The moment I put my foot down, there is no admiration or engagement rings. They're out.

However, it seems that some of you not only tolerate men's bullshit but rather, they put up with yours. Why? How? Yes, I have so many questions that need answering.

I've heard that men don't like bitches: but in the words of Maury Povich, the lie detector determined "that's a lie." Men love you bitches and move quickly to lock you down. Is it that these men are weak at heart? Or are they, in fact strong men equipped to deal with your bitchiness? I guess a better question is; is his love for you that strong?

Lies, all lies!

If you have your man in check despite you having a tight firm hold on his nutsack, inform me on how you accomplish this. Some of you aren't even beautiful by society's standards....which makes me wonder even more how you pull off being an utter bitch toward your man.

Somebody help me understand. Preferably, a bitch who has a man 100% dedicated to her, her mood swings, temper tantrums and endless rules and demands.

Charmin's year in review and year-to-be....

2016.

I can't even bring myself to say that it was a bad year, despite the many celebrity and family/friend deaths, despite the fact that the words two-thousand-sixteen has almost become a cuss word for most people. 2016 has been a most weird year for me.

Yeah, weird. Weird unusual occurrences, things that kind of stand out in the spectrum of my life this past year.

I ended 2015 with a divorced babydaddy womanizer type of guy I didn't have business messing with in the first place. So what. Perpetual loneliness takes you to some crazy, unnecessary places. I needed the company. I'm getting to a point in my life where I can admit my mistakes yet at the same time, pick out the good in unsavory situations or people. So at least in messing with this character, I started 2016 by climbing Stone Mountain on New Year's day, almost dying in the process. Despite this, dude wasn't impressed. It didn't matter though. I did it. I was near tears, out of breath, cold and sore, but I did it. Kind of like a precursor to what my year would be like. A triumphant ascension, only to come back down to reality.

Later that week, I had a job interview. Three weeks later, just as I thought I wasn't selected for the position, I got the call that I did in fact land the job. My happiness was through the roof. After six agonizing months at a job where I was making much less money, I finally made it happen for myself by landing back at Northside Hospital. The first few months at said job was like a honeymoon. Sure, I was doing work that I had never done before, but this fact didn't faze me. After all, in the past, I've adjusted and perfected any other job I've held. After all, I made it through a baptismal of fire through my many years at Cincinnati Children's and survived a hellish year and a half at my first Northside position. This new gig should be a piece of cake.

Lo and behold, what I didn't know is that I would be gradually knocked down a peg or two in my new position. For the first time, I felt truly confused at this job, with its onslaught of unfamiliar insurance terminology, complicated rules and processes, and savvier, younger, more educated coworkers who seemed to catch on so much more quickly. All of a sudden, I'm the question asker instead of the question answerer. Feeling so overwhelmed; stressing out over the amount of unfinished work at the end of a day. Initially, I thought that my superior customer service skills would compensate for my lack of skills. It did and still does make up for my lack of knowledge sometimes, but I learned good customer service goes only so far. It took me a while to realize that the problem isn't me at all, but our management and their lack of proper training. Yet still, I was (and still am) grateful to have a job to go to, a job where I'm getting paid much more than I was this very time last year. Still, it has me yearning for the organized solid simplicity of Cincinnati Children's every day.

Anyhow, I trudged through the spring with good, positive thoughts. In April, a good friend set me up on a blind date so bad that I haven't really talked to her about it, LOL The date was so bad and awkward that it was over in under two hours and all I could do is laugh. Being who I am, I didn't judge the man by the fact he was 48, unmarried with no children because people judge me just as harshly for being 38, unmarried with no children. Next time, I will totally judge and take better heed to warning signs and red flags. A shout-out to my homegirl. He's your husband's friend, but he has no social skills and he smelled funky! You tried and I appreciate it!

Fast-forward to May, when who used to be one of my best friends offers to take me to Vegas for my birthday. Best, most expensive, most opulent gift I've ever been given, birthday or otherwise. Long story short, it was the best time of my life, really. My first time out west. I actually saw the Grand Canyon with my own eyes, although it was from the plane. Such a good trip, that I'm already planning to go again next year. Except that this "friend" won't be there. A great friendship of many years, destroyed by the friends with benefits situation, over and done with because I dared to want more. Ladies, if you're hanging out with you and doesn't want his friends and family on Facebook to see you in pictures with him...he is not your friend nor your lover. A man can spend thousands of dollars on you and not care about you at all. Another valuable yet painfully stinging lesson I've learned this year. Just now, the depression over has been lifting. Because I thought he was the one. But the one will love you, regardless of what others say and think about you. Love and relationships should never be forced. Perhaps maybe, someone will love me more than I love him, more than I love myself.

So by the end of the summer and fall, I'm in pretty bad shape mentally. The man that I adore doesn't love me back and I'm at a unfulfilling job that sucks little pieces of my soul away daily. The urge to give up was incredibly strong. But there has always been that little glimmer of hope within me, no matter what. The highlight of all of this was gaining and meeting my precious new niece; my brother's first and only child. What a pleasure and joy it will be watching her grow up and getting to know her. I thank God for blessing my siblings with children of their own. Only He knows if I will ever be blessed in the same manner. Until then, I have my precious nieces and nephews to spoil and love on.

I can honestly say I enjoyed time with my family this past Thanksgiving and Christmas. When all else fails, I have them by my side. Uneventful, but blessed because I know there are people out there without a family at all.

I must stick it out at my current job. It's the only way I know I'm going to Vegas next year. The best thing about this job is being able to take time off when needed. I already know they're going to approve the week and a half off I requested for next June. I know that if I did get a new job, chances are good that I'd be on some type of 90-day probation and working right through my birthday. Not having it. Amazing what we'll tolerate for that coveted prize.

Despite my year of weird and unusual ups and downs, I did one other thing that was completely out of the ordinary.

I applied to Kennesaw State University. About a week ago, as a matter of fact. This one simple act has made me so happy because I know this is the first step in me proactively changing my life for the better. When someone addresses me as Dr. Bristol about ten years from now, a single soul won't be able to take credit for it. It will be me, the one who made that decision at the end of 2016. I'll be starting the fall semester in August 2017! I have yet to be accepted: but it is already written and I have claimed it.

What made me decide to pursue a college career some twenty years after dropping out? I'll tell you. I'm tired of being a gofer for the educated. I'm tired of being at the bottom of the totem pole. I'm tired of watching my own talents go untapped. Tired of scraping by. Tired of being the slower, older coworker at a deaf-end job with no chance of advancement. I'm tired of being viewed as an expendable, unappreciated, and disrespected pawn in corporate America. Sure, I'm certain that even some highly educated people experience the same thing in a different realm. But at least those folks have something to fall back on; whereas I do not. I'm leaning toward psychology/counseling with an emphasis on sex therapy.

Wild, ain't it!?! They say, do what you like. Well, at least I can help people out in an area that truly interests and fascinates me. So in about ten years' time, you can bring your problems to my door (perhaps my own private practice!). And I will listen with an open mind as well as an open heart.

I end this year with dreams of seeing my very own degrees neatly hung on the wall of my very own office in the future.

I end this year, going into next year not focusing so much on my single status as I'm prone to doing. Next year, hopefully I'll be way too busy to even think about snagging a significant other. All I can and will do is focus on myself and continue being the absolute best person I can be, as I have been.

I end this year with the confidence to fly alone to Vegas for my birthday next year. I envision myself in the Bellagio; eating, drinking, playing a few slots and buying a lot of souvenirs. The thought scares me a little, going all alone. But the thought of all the fun and sun and Vegas lights overrides my fear. And I think I'll check out that Grand Canyon close and personal this time. And that I'll be in St. Lucia for my 40th birthday. Passport time!

I end this year realizing that my mistakes don't define who I am, but the fact that I'm learning from my mistakes and making better choices as a result.

I end this year realizing that God isn't withholding blessings from me as I previously thought. It is Satan, weaseling his way into my life and creating strife. I realize that he loves it when I'm unhappy or feeling bitter; he thrives off of this. This too, will change.

I will end this year alone in solitude. I may go to church, but I somehow know I need to be alone. Time for silent reflection, positive prayers for all I will be and all I will accomplish in 2017. Perhaps a couple glasses of champagne and go to bed.

I go into next year with my head held high, fueled by all my hopes, wishes, dreams, and prayers. I'm a severely flawed individual, but damn if I'm not one of the most unique and genuine women out here. I realize I am necessary to the world. One does not run into me often. I am realizing my purpose. It took me a while, but hey. Better late than never.

It's never too late to try and do ANYTHING you want to do in this life. Let those who tell you that you're not capable, those who have no faith in you, be the catalyst for you to spring into action. After all, it was once said to my face that I'd never leave Cincinnati and be there forever with the other complacents. Over three years later, I can say the Atlanta life hasn't been an easy journey. But my goodness, it most definitely has been worth it. I think of the trials and tribulations that continue to strengthen me and I think of all of the new friends that I would've never met had I not made that one pivotal decision.

God bless you all. His wonders never cease.


Happy 2017,
-Charmin

Facebook HATES black people speaking out against racism!

Hey Ya'll,

It's been a long time since I checked in and for that, I apologize. I've been thinking lately that I do want to write more posts on my blog because I've neglected it these past few months.

Well, something has happened lately that I must share. I'll share it either you instead of making it a letter to Facebook like I initially intended to, but they probably receive thousands of letters daily and consequently, don't give a f!@#.

So I am saying it right here, right now: Facebook is RACIST.

Yeah, I said it. I was actually banned from posting at the time I started writing this entry (September 11th, 2016). And I'll be banned until sometime on Sunday, after my seven-day ban is complete. At which point, I'll share this post.

And get this: only last week was I released from the previous ban, which lasted for three days. And earlier this summer, I was banned for one day.

Why? What's my crime?

I as a black woman dared to open my mouth and speak out on the rampant racism in America and speaking out against the injustices and stereotypes plaguing black people to this day.

I actually dared to believe that I had free speech on Facebook. After all, I've really never had any problems with Facebook before; I believe it was around 2008 or so when I joined it. No problems whatsoever until now.

Now = summer 2016, a time where we have an openly bigoted presidential candidate preying on the fears of the shrinking (afraid) white majority, a time when a black football player peacefully protests and still receives death threats, a time where people condone the unnecessary deaths of black men by cops.

A time where many white people tell black people to shut up, go back to Africa, and stop playing the race card, although their ancestors were the ones who manufactured it.

Speak out against racism toward blacks and other minorities Facebook, and be reminded of not only how much certain whites hate blacks, but of how Facebook hates blacks as well.

Remind them of how this country wasn't theirs to begin with; about the systematic slaughter of the natives, and pay the price.

Always remember the horror of 9/11, and we should remember that horrible day when approximately 3,000 people lost their lives. But black people need to get over centuries of slavery and the unspeakably horrible Middle Passage where nearly 2,500,000 million Africans died.

And when I say 2,500,000 Africans died, that means, during the Middle Passage alone. Disease, murder by being tossed overboard and fed to the sharks who after a while realized slave ships were a guaranteed food source and followed them. Shackled to other slaves that had been dead for days. But we're not permitted to discuss it. It happened a long time ago. Forget about it, you whiny black people. Not surprisingly, there is no accurate statistic that exists on how many black souls were lost if they survived the Middle Passage, once they were herded onto American soil. So we can only assume and imagine how many lives were lost then, and I assume millions more. I could go on and discuss the black lives lost in the time immediately after slavery with lynchings during Jim Crow and the Civil Rights Era, but it would take too much time. Either way, we're expected to sweep it under the rug and move on although it's never suggested to other races to forget about the tragedies their ancestors suffered. Instead, it's thrown in our faces that the "Irish were slaves too" and that "Africans sold Africans to the white man" to undermine and minimize the very wrong horror of black American slavery. But I digress.

I say Facebook hates blacks because they'll ban me for speaking in a civilized tone, minus cussing and threats.....simply because a group of white supremacists inbox each other to report the uppity nigger that clearly doesn't know her place. Facebook then automatically assumes that I'm the problem and places the ban. They then suggest that I remind myself of the terms and conditions.....or else.

Yet, these same people can wish death on me, call me a colored nigger monkey welfare recipient and various other names and be allowed to go on and antagonize the next minority that dares to speak out against racism. Just like their ancestors before them believed, black folks are 3/5ths human and are just animals to be seen and not heard.

Report any of these people wishing black people into extinction and Facebook quickly responds that these people haven't done anything wrong. Even if they said you're a jigaboo blackie chicken bucket (yes, someone actually called me that).

Yes, Facebook somehow doesn't have a problem with angry racist whites.

It makes me wonder, what kind of people in charge of deciding who gets banned and who gets to stay and continue to post hate over there at Facebook headquarters?

Oh, I did my research and found an answer to my question. Behold, story #1 from over a year ago:

http://www.businessinsider.com/new-facebook-diversity-report-shows-company-still-mainly-white-and-male-2015-6

And story #2, written not even a month ago:

http://www.gizmodo.com.au/2016/08/facebook-cant-figure-out-how-to-diversify-its-staff/

Not surprising or earth-shattering information, but it causes two puzzle pieces in my mind to connect. And I've come to a couple of conclusion. My first, yet weak conclusion tries to give Facebook the benefit of the doubt: that Facebook doesn't give any one person or group of people, no matter how many, the power to ban another person. If they don't like what you're saying, they should only have the right to block you. This is a problem.

My second conclusion, as much as I don't want to believe it, is spot on. That the majority of the majority of white people who work for Facebook are racists who use their bias to decide who's banned and who's not. This is a problem.

I mean, how else do you explain white supremacist posters having free reign of the comments section and black people getting banned, just for simply speaking? You as a black person don't even have to address these supremacists directly. You can make a statement that they don't agree with and ban together to block you and have you banned. When a black person reports a page, Facebook smirks and says it's not a problem, that you being called a black nigger that needs to die in no way violates their terms and conditions and that no action will be taken. This is a problem.

However, if you state that black lives do indeed matter and that 85% of whites are murdered by other whites, you'll be promptly banned. Simply because they don't want black people to have a voice. Shut up nigger, we don't care. We're not on the shitty end of racism, so you just hush up. It's the message that some (NOT all whites send and that Facebook endorses. This is a problem.

Disgusting, isn't it? Less than four months away from the year 2017 and this is what we're dealing with. Facebook may as well include in their so-called terms and conditions that minorities practice their first amendment rights at the risk of being banned and to deal with racism. After all, that's the message they've sent to me more than once. This is a problem.

All I have left to say is, my voice feels stifled. I have to "watch my mouth," because at this point, I can say anything that makes one white person angry and/or uncomfortable and I'll probably be banned from Facebook for good. All my pictures and friends, gone because there are people who feel I don't have the right to speak out. Such bullshit. However, I do thank my some of my white friends for attempting to empathize and speaking against racial injustice in America. I marvel at their bravery in a counary that urges them to ignore their privilege. You are who proves that not all white people are racist. When a black counterpart says it, I'm quick to remind them that it's far from the truth.

We do need to stand as one, but we can't stand as one on an uneven playing field.

This may go viral, maybe it won't. I realize that penning this post probably subjects me to being banned yet again, but I have the insatiable need to speak out. Besides, being banned from Facebook has allowed me to turn my attention to other things in life despite me enjoying interactions with family and friends far and wide.

It's the the risk I'm taking to speak out, to have my voice heard. My black grandparents and other ancestors didn't have that right and I'm vocal because they weren't allowed to be. They had to stay in their place and deal with it.

I won't. I will continue to speak out, no matter how much discomfort it causes those who don't want equality for all. I'm no black militant, but a fighter for the underdog, which to this day is black people and other minorities. I owe it to the memory of my ancestors. Their bravery and long-suffering is the only reason why we as black people today enjoy the freedoms and lives we have today.

I hope they're proud of me.


Not-so-sincerely, Charmin J. Bristol

For the first time ever, I was told I should lose weight.

Good evening friends,

Hoping that 2016 has been good to you so far.

Although I've been thinking of reviving my blog for a while now, something happened to me recently that I can't help but to share with you.

I, Charmin J. Bristol, has been told that I should lose weight. For the first time ever. But before I get into the specifics of who said it and how it affected me, I'll say this. I've long thought of it as rude and insensitive to pick at someone because of their size. As far as I know, a chemical imbalance, genetics, a thyroid disorder or even an eating disorder can contribute to anyone being obese. Some people are happy in their overweight bodies; some are willing to work hard to do something about it. Either way, I feel no one else should mention a person's weight unless they're a family member or friend in true concern for their health and unless it's said with genuine gentleness and care. It's really not your business otherwise, especially given that you're not perfect yourself.

But anyway, back to myself.

I'll give you my reasons for my approximately 30, perhaps 40 pound weight gain in the past couple of years. I moved to Georgia and always having been a foodie, I fell in love with the endless, delicious variety of restaurants. I've always found good food so pleasurable and satisfying. And I thought, "why not indulge?" since I've always had a fast metabolism. But the aging process, as I've been approaching my late thirties, has clearly slowed my metabolism significantly. And oh yeah, I live in Atlanta now. Which means no walking to work or to the store as I did for over a decade back in Cincinnati. So I'm driving everywhere and walking nowhere. No exercise at all but walking to the car. These factors alone have contributed to my weight gain, in my opinion. Despite this, my blood pressure has remained normal, I remain healthy in general, and still think I look good and an overall fabulous woman with a great personality.....except for the extra weight.

So. To the point, short and sweet. I start dating a guy who seems nice, into being fit and trim/working out. And at first, I think it's cool because what can be better than being with a guy who not only seems to like me for me, but also give me some tips and pointers on getting in shape? Not bad, Charmin. Get it girl.

Well, I guess he had been wanting to tell me that I should lose weight for a while. Despite the fact I've been making quite the effort to work out and make better eating choices, he felt obligated to tell me that I should lose weight.

After the comment was made, I initially felt shock. Because up until a couple of years ago, I had a slim yet shapely figure to die for. I delighted in my perfect body during my twenties, which always fit perfectly in single-digit dress and pant sizes. Even at a size ten in my early thirties, I felt very comfortable and happy with my body and its weight. Never a complaint from any man, ever. Brickhouse, traffic-stopping status.

Until this past week. So initially, I felt shock, but hurt feelings that I didn't expect, that I tried to ignore. Because even though I'm a few pounds overweight, aren't I still fun to be with? Isn't my intellect stimulating enough to overlook my muffin top? Do you intentionally not realize that I am going to the gym, and that progress isn't an overnight process? Although you ain't no Denzel, haven't I liked you for you?

Apparently not, for the vain and indifferent. And mind you, the comment was said to me from a place of vanity, not a place of care and concern. It was said by a man who expects perfection, while he himself is far from perfect. Words from a man who wants to be seen with a perfect dimepiece, not a woma who has a few extra pounds.

Being told that I should lose weight for the first really got the wheels turning in my head. Firstly, it signaled that I have absolutely no room in my life for a flawed guy who insists on focusing on my "flaws." I can't even begin to fathom being with a man who doesn't completely accept me for who I am. The right man will appreciate me whether I'm 116 pounds or 260 pounds. Most importantly is that I absolutely love who I am, which has gotten me through this. Chubby Charmin is pretty much the same person Skinny Charmin is. Secondly, it made me stand in the shoes of many beautiful women who weigh much more than I do who have been told that they need to lose weight all their lives. If I was in my feelings and self-esteem stung by being told once, I could only imagine the humiliation and pain of being constantly reminded of it. Thirdly, I realize that my current quest for a more fit and healthy body is only for me and me alone. And for a special man somewhere in the future who'll be crazy about me, regardless of my size.

I give many props and much respect to all and any of my friends that share their journey of getting in shape on Facebook. They're true inspirations and have definitely encouraged me to start my own journey.

For anyone who's been told to "lose weight" or called fat by someone trying to kill your spirits (in an attempt to make their sorry self feel better), I dedicate today's entry to you. Beauty on the outside is null and void and means absolutely nothing if you're not beautiful on the inside as well.

Love, Charmin

Charmin, the reluctant football dummy :)

Good afternoon. 

My name is Charmin. 

And I know next to nothing about football.

Try as I may, all these years, the concept just hasn't stuck within the confines of my brain.

Is it that I'm trying too hard to understand something that is supposedly very easy?

Or am I just too girly.....or better yet, uninterested?

Yes, I am that woman that doesn't get it. All the Facebook posts from female friends, posting about their favorite teams, first and downs, yardage, all these numbers, quoting stats, whatever, is lost on me. 

Gimme props: I do know what touchdowns and interceptions are. 

And gimme more props: I love EVERYTHING surrounding football. The competitive nature of the fans, the smack talking, the food, the beer. And especially, the men. 

Basically, my only reason for wanting to learn the concept of football is to impress my future boyfriend/homie/lover/friend/husband. One more thing for him to love about me. Like the lovely couples pictured below.

It sure would be nice to actually talk about football, while it's in real time, and actually know what's going on. I no longer want to be the chick in the picture here :)

And oh yeah: just in case God decides to bless me with an athletic son or two that want to play the game. Mama's gonna wanna know what her babies are doing and how they do it. I don't want to be that mom cheering for my son when he's running in the wrong direction for a touchdown.

So. I think it's time for me to invest in a book I've wanted for a long time, Football for Dummies. Perhaps it will be the key to having the puzzle pieces of football finally connect in my head. Or maybe Holly Robinson's Peete's book.

Because all this ish is lost on me.

Or, maybe some nice handsome guy somewhere will be able to teach me. My dad, the eternal Bengals fan tried, but wasn't too successful. You rock anyway, Dad. Nice try.

So, maybe by the end of this season, I'll know what's going on. I do know enough about football to be a bandwagon Bengals fan.