I know what you’re thinking. Considering I have a book out entitled, Don’t Let The White Girl Win, I shouldn’t be offended by the backlash over the interracial Cheerios commercial that has resulted in so much viral hate. Who am I to take exception to those who are negative and nasty towards the featured couple and towards America’s favorite breakfast brand? You’d think I wouldn’t be upset. But you’re wrong. I am. Some may think it’s hypocritical of me to feel that America is making too much noise over something like interracial love. Now, while my book focuses on the silent rivalry between black and white women for the hearts of black men, not once do I say that people, no matter their race, shouldn’t love freely and openly. Apparently, America doesn’t agree. For me, this just proves my point. People naively believe that we live in a post racial society where discrimination and bias doesn’t exist. Supposedly because we have a black president things like racial intolerance are considered things of the past. You think? The outrage over the commercial proves that a large segment of humanity is as racist and as small minded as ever. Race is still a big part of who we are; we’re just not honest about it. We exist in a world of camouflage and PC police. To counter this, the Fascist among us has had to become adept at hiding their bigotry.

Consider this. What is the problem with the Cheerios commercial really? It’s innocent enough. The issue is that a large part of society still feels that the white woman, by loving a man of color and producing an interracial child, committed some sort of cardinal sin. By accepting the love of her black spouse she is tainted and considered less. She is soiled and tarnished by his affection. That she had the nerve to bring a child into the mix, to some, is considered sacrilege.

Coming from a very interracial family myself, I understand the dynamics of the featured family better than most. I understand what people see when they see my very white, black, brown and beige family. We are mutts. Or are we? While I highlight the issues of black women struggling to find their niche in a society where women of color are considered second best, I do not agree with the hate mongers spouting words filled with poisonous venom. That is not what the Super Sistah is about. Those who have read and seen beyond the title of the book, Don’t Let The White Girl Win, will agree. What I see when I view the Cheerios commercial is an adorable little girl who is a part of a loving family. Nothing more and nothing less. I celebrate that diversity has finally made it TV albeit a little late. I’m saddened that this is even an issue in 2013. I stand by Cheerios and congratulate them for keeping their ad prominent. It’s a defiant reminder to the haters that love doesn’t just come in ivory. It comes in all the hues our hearts can conceive.

Is racism a natural part of the fabric of society like a breakfast consisting of cereal, milk and tea? Can a heart filled with hatred be considered heart healthy?

Watch this video on YouTube.

If you’re a plumber then you know firsthand that it’s pressure that bursts pipes. It does the same for people. The type A folks with the powerful will to succeed know exactly what this means. They know everything about the terrible P. Pressure. Forget the expectations of the world, parents and friends, no one’s expectations are as high as the ones they’ve set for themselves. Like many of us, they’re the cortisol queens and stress is a drug that is flowing freely through their blood stream. They envy the folks that walk around with constant smiles and looks of serenity and peace. For those gifted with a Zen outlook, burn their houses down and they’ll say, I’ll get another one. Fire them from their jobs and they’ll reply, it wasn’t the job for me. Have their boyfriends run off with strippers and they’ll tell you, she can have him. His bed action was horrible and his breath stinks. Give them a terminal illness and they’ll say, won’t the Lord be happy to see me? Arghhhhh. All this positivity makes us want to scream and…reflect. What do these pinnacles of peace know that we don’t? What have they learned in the downward dog position in yoga class that life hasn’t taught you or me? What do they tell themselves between self-reflecting breaths in meditation class? What does the pastor tell them at church that makes their tears of disappointment dry up and cease?

What they‘ve learned I suspect is this:

• Control won’t stop chaos. Trying to run your life with an iron fist won’t stop the shit from hitting the fan. It will just change the trajectory.
• You can’t control the outcome of anything; you can only control your reaction to it.
• The devil and his minions are real. Let them into your head and they’ll buy real estate and start watching illegal cable on your TV.
• Faith and trust are beliefs that must be eaten with breakfast daily.
• You can surround yourself with positive people but it means nothing if you can’t find some positive emotions for yourself.
• You can’t change the world or people so live by Mahatma Gandhi’s motto which says to Be the change you want to see.
• Love is a cure all. It makes any difficult task easy.

Why do the Zen Specialist and Meditation Mavens among us make inner peace look so simple? Is popping our lids and a lack of serenity inevitable for those classified as Pressure Cooker People?

Wrapping positivity around us is not always easy. There are times when we want to let our dark angel out and let her have free reign. In the instances when we feel, as women, that we’ve been taken advantage of, hurt or humiliated, adhering to this concept becomes very challenging. For the ladies that spell revenge with a capital R. It means they must refrain from keying their ex’s car, slashing his tires or calling the IRS to report his fraudulent tax return. It means having a long talk with their sinner self that wants to paper his office lobby with pictures of his privates. It means doing battle with the bad girl that wants to take center stage. Slap her silly and don’t let her out. When we do bad things we either pay now or pay later. Whether we are good or bad, Karma always collects. Remember what goes around comes around. Sow seeds of power and positivity. Avoid the negative Karma curse and embrace a destiny filled with positive energy.

Our friend fate is on our side, are we on his?

Check out the radio interview here: http://www.blogtalkradio.com/twosidesproductions/2013/04/20/lady-love

Every young girl dreams of happily ever after. They dream of the white wedding and the man that will sweep them off their feet. They look forward to the Vera Wang gown accessorized by a Swarovski crystal stiletto designed by Cinderella herself. The cake – three tiered. The groom: tall, dark and drool worthy. The venue: muy caliente. The wedding night: romantic with a dash of Fifty Shades. The happily ever after: perfect!

Tsk, tsk, tsk. Not so fast. For many, what happens in real life is that shortly after the honeymoon, the new bride is confronted with her prince’s dirty laundry, the sound of him farting in bed and the reality that too much home cooked meals has given him a slight belly. Yet all is right in the world. After years of searching for the one, these urban princesses are not about to bitch and moan about the details. But then time passes. Except for the digital pics, the white wedding is a distant memory. The prince has gotten complacent, neglectful and slightly more portly. There are kids, college, mortgages and bank loans. There are days that go by without goodnight kisses; I love you’s or expressions of passion and tenderness. The wedding was beautiful but the marriage is work and hubby dearest has forgotten to punch his time card. Is it time to throw in the towel? Love, like all living things, cannot flourish in an environment of neglect. For it to flourish it has to be watered with kindness, kissed with warmth and tended diligently to make sure that weeds don’t choke it to death. If the love is gone or has been put on the bench to sit, that’s because someone in the relationship succumbed to the marriage myth. The myth that the person you married will stay the same, the vows you’ve made will never be broken and the commitment you made will never be tested. The strongest couples, the ones that make it through the day-to-day, understand this: relationships require labor intensive, back-breaking hours or dedication and sweat.

Has love gone on hiatus, vacation or has reported itself missing to the cops? Do you still love your spouse or are you over it? Is happily ever after a reality or is forever a myth?

Caller: My birthday cake is on fire.

Operator: Ma’am, stop calling here.

Tomorrow is my birthday. When my friends asked me how I felt about yet another year added to my age, I answered: I ain’t dead yet. I didn’t say greaatttttt, like cereal box Tony the Tiger. I didn’t happily clap my hands like an excited 10 year old. I didn’t answer with anything resembling enthusiasm. I wasn’t a toddler with a cake adorned with 2 little twinkling lights signaling a life that is fresh and new. Lighting my candles was borderline arson that threatened to burn my house down around my ears. With my luck the fire department would send Fire Marshall Bill to extinguish the blaze. Yeehaa, it’s my birthday. (Mouth formed in a hard line of sarcasm)

Apparently, I’m far from ecstatic. What is the source of this discontent you’re wondering? For people in hospital rooms fighting for life and breath, my attitude is borderline sacrilege. I have my health, a career and people who love me, what in God’s name did I have to complain about? What was with the discontent? Why was I both pouty and perturbed? I didn’t want to celebrate. Like Valentine’s Day for girls who are perpetually single, I just wanted it to be over. Be gone, Birthday! Be gone!

What was at the heart of this gloom that had fallen over my head and left my spirits in eternal mist? I investigated the source and the answer was right there. I didn’t feel like I had everything. Sure I had a book, a career and friends. But where the heck was the white picket fence; the impossibly tall husband with the broad chest? Where was the house full of kids that all looked curiously like the Jacksons? Janet, baby, go back to sleep, mama will be there soon. I wanted it all, deserved it all and boy was I tired of waiting. In a fit of pique I fired off an emotional text to The Most High.

From: the Super Sistah

To: The Lord – Almighty

Subject: It’s my Birthday – WHAT THE HELL!

Dear Lord,

I hope this text finds you well. That’s it for small talk! Yesterday, last year, five years ago and when I was sixteen, I prayed and asked you to send me a family. Where they at, Lord! Where? I’m tired of waiting. You are supposed to be the almighty, right? Grab some clay and build me something. Trust in me? I’ve been done trusting. I’m tired and I’m fed up. Why you keep sending me these knuckleheads with issues, father? If we attract what we are, what you trying to say, Lord? I know I ain’t crazy.

Look up Stephanie in the dictionary and under my pic it says, she who is anointed and blessed. So stop playing. I’m your daughter and I’m sick and tired of these antics.

Real talk? I’m giving you another year, two tops, and then I might have to build some things my own damn self. Yes, I ‘m blaspheming. SO what!

Don’t respond, G.O.D. It’s my birthday. I gotta go and cry into my cake so I can extinguish the candles.

Peace out, Jehovah, Prince of Peace. AKA – Lil’ Dove.

Signed, the Super Sistah

BTW – I ain’t dead yet. Thanks for that. Deuces!

Sent from SS iPhone –– 3/28/2013

Is our happiness based on what we don’t have or lack instead of what we’ve been given with grace? Does the birthday card of life deserve to be signed with a sad face?

Mom is the Sergeant and General in many families and her kids are her dutiful soldiers. This woman in authority barks out orders and expects to be immediately obeyed. She lays down the law as the primary caregiver and will not tolerate any disobedience. As is common with powerful women, we fear and revere her. We understand without being told that she’s the HNIC – Head Negro in Charge. She’s the squadron chief and the official team leader. Like the most terrifying drill sergeant, mom is not to be messed with. In single-parent households this woman of steel is our only role model so by default many women grow up mimicking their mom’s ways. While her leadership style may be effective in rearing kids, it doesn’t go over so well in relationships. Trying to get your significant other to be about it, do what he’s told and ask how high when we say leap, probably won’t get us married. Strangely, it’s the women who have mastered the art of subtly that most often get the ring. These are the ladies who lead in absentia. Translation? They are the women that lead but make their men feel like they’re the captain of the ship. Masterful or manipulative? Can’t really say, you decide. For the rest of us who haven’t grasped the art of subterfuge, the absence of male role models and healthy examples of cooperative relationships, make us naturally want to take charge. We’ve been taught to be independent and we’re often unwilling to relinquish control. When we get into relationships we discover to our horror that love isn’t a dictatorship; it’s a democracy. Holy hell! What the heck. What now? Give him the wheel and see if he knows how to steer. Practice makes perfect.

Evidence suggests that no matter how capable, self-sufficient and independent we are as women, men are not interested in sleeping with the Master and Chief. In a battle with an enemy or worthy opponent (life), most men will choose to have a dedicated soldier by their side over even the most decorated General. Instinctively men want to protect and nurture us. For experimental purposes we’ll let them and see if the journey ends at the altar.

Have women of today forgotten who’s in charge? As Sergeants in the Army of Life can we demote ourselves to Soldiers and let love lead?

In our personal lives many of us have had some devastating setbacks. I for one know firsthand what a worthy adversary terror can be. Anxiety and I are lovers entwined in a forbidden dance. We are enemies at an impasse. Fear and I fight on a daily basis, and more times than not, fear has the last laugh. Everything I do, I do it scared but one quote speaks to me: Courage is not the absence of fear but the judgment that something else is more important than fear. The brave may not live forever but the cautious do not live at all.

As a self-proclaimed fear-fighter, to admit to any type of insecurity means that I’m a fake, a phony and a fraud.  Are any of us as fearless as we pretend to be? I say no. Instead, we all wear a mask of invulnerability. Life has taught us to live with the knot in our stomachs every time we try to conquer a new task. Experience has taught us to swallow past the lump in our throats. The lumps that form when we’re faced with the debilitating awareness that we may not succeed. Pride has made us hide our hands behind our backs every time they start to shake. Determination has taught us to project a calm that we do not feel. Sheer stubbornness has made us accept that we cannot make fear define us. We learn to accept that the most fearful people are the most critical. They will work the hardest to tear our ambitions down. Courageous people use fear as a driving force because they refuse to let anxiety hold them back.

Are you a frightened feline who can’t make progress because fear is holding you back? Are you a fear-fighter or a Scaredy Cat?

On the flip though, there are instances when that very human need for male companionship turns self-destructive. There are times when the need to be desired and loved leads some of us down some potentially dangerous paths. In these instances, common sense takes a back seat, the internal dialogue of truth goes on a hiatus and the voice of God is drowned out by the cries for a man’s taste and touch. As women, we get desperate when it seems that Mr. Marry Me won’t appear. Is he late or lost? Did he take a wrong turn? Waiting for the one, seems counter-intuitive and impractical so we decide to take things into our own hands. We grow desperate and begin an all-out campaign to find someone, anyone, to fill the void, the emptiness, and to occupy the empty relationship space. In this mindset of desperation, we chose men who are inappropriate, unavailable and/or uninterested. We try to make the booty call brother into the ideal mate, we try to save marriages that cannot be saved, and we try to make the unmarriageable into the man of our dreams. It can’t be done. To get spiritual on my readers, trust me when I say that God has a plan. He has a strategy, a blueprint and schematic with our lives mapped out. If things have gone haywire and swerved off course, that’s because we didn’t take Carrie Underwood’s advice and let Jesus, Take The Wheel. We decided instead to steer that bad boy ourselves. Sometimes we have to Let Go and Let God.

Producing the man worthy of a lifetime of our love may seem to take an eternity but it’s our job to live with a spirit of expectation. We must prepare our mind and body to receive. Stop watching the train and the bus for the man we were promised. He will appear. He may not be around the corner but he’s down the street. God gifts the heart with all it desires when that heart is ready to receive. Don’t be desperate. Be selective and let God steer.

Are you lonely, unloved and so tired of waiting for the one that you’re ready to call it quits? Is desperately seeking someone to fill the void making you love sick?