black women in the military

If Obama pulled even 10% of the shit in 8 years that Trump has done in just 8 months, Obama’s ass would have impeached by congress before Monday. Let's be honest.

The double standards are astounding. 

Trump literally made a heavily pregnant and vulnerable Gold Star widow cry even more.

Diary of a Black Male: Entry #46

I met this girl at work a few of months back. I thought she was cute so I gave her my number, but I told her we would talk business. Her name is Melanie– short, brown skin– one of those delta sorority sisters who sounds mad country. She wanted to work on this piece with me– at least that’s what she made it seems like. She wanted to do a spoken word visual about growing up in poverty as black people. I thought she had a great vision. I let her know that it was a really good idea. I was kind of excited to be honest. She called me that same night to talked about it and everything sounded like a go.

We made arrangements to meet up to actually discuss this vision. We sat down and thought about different ways to portray the different ideas. We had gone through a lot in our short time on this earth. We came from different backgrounds, so she never saw the things that I saw. She told me I introduced her to a new world. She told me she liked that about me. I wasn’t sure if it was the compliment or not but at that moment I felt some real ass chemistry. Before you know it we started to share some personal thing about our life. She told me she appreciated how open and transparent I was. Things had got really deep.

Maybe a little too deep, I could tell it had gotten a little overwhelming so I asked if she wanted to go for a walk. She agreed and we went outside and just start walking. It felt great. I love nature. I love everything about it. It kind of helps me feel free. I could tell she felt a little better herself. Finally, we had a seat on the bench that was right outside this coffee shop. She told me that she was glad she ran into me when she did. She told me I seemed like a great guy and she could the two of us becoming really great friends. I agreed. I definitely saw that too.

I cannot lie. That shit made my dick tremble a little bit. Don’t ask me how or why– just know that it did. I made the suggestion to link up again some other time. I told her we would have fun and the next time we link up we didn’t have to talk about the heavy shit. After that we kind of said our goodbyes and went our separate ways. Later on that night she thanked me for listening to her. She told me she has always had so much to say but no one to really say it to. She told me that was the reason why she wrote– to say the things she couldn’t say to anyone else. Ironically, that was kind of the reason why I started to write. I used to write just to clear my mind. I wrote anything from poems to essays– outside of university work to journal entries.

The more she revealed about herself the stronger my attraction towards her became. Sometimes when she would speak I could just hear the passion in her voice. It was the sexiest thing ever. She made my dick tremble quite often and didn’t have to be talking about sex. Bruh, she told me a story about how she had to go off on her co worker– I swear I couldn’t help myself. That shit was sexy af. She just started going in and I could hear myself saying, “damn, I love you” I was thinking to myself, “this chick might be wifey.”

Over the span of couple months we had gotten really close. Sometimes when she came over she would spend then night. We had gotten really close. I felt like it was about that time to take our relationship to the next level. I felt like I could be myself with her and I felt that wholeheartedly. We had already gone on a number of dates. There was no reason why we weren’t already a couple. I had been thinking about it for weeks. I had even called my best friend to ask for his opinion. He gave me his blessings and that was all I needed. I trusted his word. He always had my best interest at heart.

That night I called her and asked her if she could meet me at the coffee shop. The coffee shop was the symbol of our relationship. It symbolized the pinnacle of our growth. It was apart of our history. We met there often to talk about our project ideas and to talk about life. That coffee shop meant a lot to our relationship and I wanted it to continue to be apart of us.

That night I told her to meet at the coffee shop so we could talk about this idea I had. It had been awhile since we actually sat down and talk about our ideas. My ideas often came to me while I was laying in bed. I would usually write them down before I go to sleep. We called each other every night before bed. I guess that’s why I’ve been thinking about her so much lately. I didn’t think about much of anything at night other than spending time with her. I guess you can tell how much I really liked her.

She called me to let me know she was close. I had already ordered some tea and sat on the outside. Before she got off the phone she told me that she had something to tell me. I had no idea what she had to say but it made me nervous. I was already been kind of nervous to finally ask her out despite being so close but it added to my anxieties. All types of things started to go through my head. I called my boy back real quick to calm my nerves but as soon as he answered the phone I could see Melanie pulling up.

I told him I’ll call him back and greeted Melanie. She smiled and gave me hug as usual. Everything seemed to be fine and my nerves seemed to have calm down. She asked me about the ideas I had. I kind of wanted to know what she had to say to me before I got into why I asked her to come out. I just told her away. I told her about a few project ideas for this short film I wanted to do. I wanted to document black hair and what our hair means to our identity. I wanted to focus on standard of beauty and natural hair for both men and women. There were some other things I wanted to discuss but I was too anxious to find out what she wanted to say to me.

She started to mention the weather and asked me if I wanted to go for a walk. She knew I loved shit like that. I thought it was going to have one of those romantic moments you read about in story books. After awhile my anxiety dissipated and I was actually feeling pretty good about everything. While we were walking she grabbed and held my hand. She told me that she really like me and maybe even loved me. I was excited and a little relieved but I also had butterflies in my stomach. I could only smile despite the discomfort.

She mentioned her ex. She told me she wanted to tell me something and it had to do with him. I could feel myself getting sick to my stomach. My anxieties were going through the roof at this point. I stopped walking. I stood there and waited for her say something disappointing. I just had this feeling in the pit of my stomach that told me I wasn’t going to like what she had to say. Then she looked over to me and said “my ex is actually my husband” I just looked at her in disbelief. Apparently they hadn’t gotten a divorce but they were just separated– legally at least.

He had been overseas for six months on a mission. She said that he was coming back and that he was going to kick her out the house they had together. She told me they had some type of agreement but that didn’t matter to. She lied to me. She was never really honest with me. This entire time I thought I had really found someone to me. I thought I finally found someone. There was not enough unconditional love that would make me forgive her so easily. I couldn’t believe I let this happen to me.

She had a whole ass husband. A whole ass military nigga. I got so sick that I actually puked. I had to leave. I had to get away from the situation. I didn’t know what else to do. She could have told me about this. I don’t know why she hadn’t told me this to behind with. There had been so many opportunities for her to tell me about this but she waited until the moment I thought she couldn’t do any wrong.

She told me that she had more to say but I couldn’t take it. I didn’t want to hear it. I just went home. I didn’t even call my boy. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. She had been hitting me up that entire night but I refused to answer. I just put on some Jazz music and internalized everything gotdamn thing that has ever happened in my entire life up until that point until I just fell asleep of exhaustion.

I felt so empty and incomplete but I also had this heaviness about myself. I didn’t want to talk to her but I knew I wouldn’t feel better until I found out what else she had to say. I shut myself out from the world for a couple days. I just hadn’t been feeling like myself. I hadn’t returned any of her calls and to be honest it was eating me alive. I needed something to help me take my mind off of Melanie. I thought if I invited another woman over that she would help me take my mind off of things. I thought she would make me feel good– make me feel like myself again.

I called Jasmine. We used to mess around from time to time. I hadn’t seen her in awhile. I ask her if she wanted drop after she got home from work. That usually meant she would come through for sex. I thought that was something I needed but when she got there I just wasn’t feeling it. I could barely function let alone entertain a woman while the entire time I was thinking about someone else. I didn’t make me feel any better. I actually felt worse. I thought she would be fun. I thought she would’ve brought me out of that shitty mood I was in but all she really wanted to do was to have sex. I guess I got what I was asking for.

I had been too detached to do anything remotely close to sex and Jasmine didn’t like it. She had gotten really upset so I just asked her to leave. While escorting her out Melanie pulled up.

Confession

I made a colossal sized mistake joining the military.

No, not because of the current state of our country and politics. I had join far before the recent election and the uproar of political issues. And no it’s not because the training/work is hard. In fact I enjoy it. I love feeling productive and strong. I love when I’m on duty and I see black women look at me and smile. Or when little black girls look up to me. That makes me feel good. But then that feeling quickly fades because I remember why I hate being apart of the armed forces. And that reason being I cannot stand the people.

I hate my family, so I joined the military in hopes I could build a new one among other reason. I will openly admit that I romanticized the military. I thought I’d be exposed to an array of badass, strong, culturally diverse, funny, intelligent, loyal type people. But instead found myself among black woman hating, colorist, ignorant, foul mouth sons of bitches I have ever come to know. I had literally went through nine months of training and signed away six years of my life to put myself in the company of the people I was trying to escape. And it kills me.

When I completed my AIT training and saw my home come into view as my plane landed, I cried. Hard. Because I was so lonely, angry, disgusted with my experience there. Yet, relieved that I made it through. I almost quit. But when I reported to my unit, nothing changed. Nothing got better. The men(specifically black and some Hispanic) there are so boorish and ignorant. They spew so much bullshit about black women. We can’t just EXIST and WORK.

They try really hard to get under my skin with their comments about us. But such things doesn’t effect me because I have no interest in them. Then when word got out that I am in an interracial relationship, those same men berated me and made ill comments about my appearance or more ill comments about the behavior of black women. I know they’re doing this because they feel rejected which makes no sense to me because how can you feel rejected by something you’ve clearly stated you don’t want? Or in some of their cases, already have relationships. It’s like they hate knowing they don’t have access to me so they need to make me miserable for it. Even if they really don’t want anything to do with me. It’s all so childish and I’m not use to this bullshit.

I wish not to write a whole essay on this. I just know I hate this shit. I don’t want to be apart of it. It is nothing like I thought it would be. I sometimes stare at my uniform and just feel sadness. Because everyone is so proud me and look at me like I’m this amazing person. And I don’t feel that way because I share this uniform with literally the worst kind of people I have ever met. I see no reason to be proud anymore seeing as to how just anyone can earn it.  

C: I recently enlisted in US Air Force Reserve and I have basic training AKA bootcamp in about a month. I’m not that nervous about the training, I take care of myself and I know what to expect for the most part. However, I am nervous about my hair. I have microlocs that mimic sisterlocs and so far no one has said I break regulations with them. I’ve worn them in two braids and also in a low pulled back bun. It’s crazy as a black woman we have to worry about this since our natural hair has to conform to other standards.

“So you’re a politician,” Luna said with a smirk, never taking her orange eyes off of his own as she bit into her bright green apple. “And what makes you say that?” Jacques responded, making a note of how strong her jaw was. Every tiny muscle was working to grind the apple pieces in her mouth into mush, flexing and dancing underneath her smooth, dark skin like perfectly conditioned, world class dancers. “That,” the Captain stated, lifting and extending her right index finger from the apple in her grasp and pointing it straight at his face. “What you’re doing now. You always have a look on your face that tells me you’re recording something. And when you open your mouth, I can hear the tact and the care in your voice, even before you’re finished with your sentence.” Her eyes narrowed, stern and understanding, before she swallowed and took another bite. “Aren’t those traits of a politician?” “I think that the real question is, do you find my careful nature disturbing, Captain,” Jacques asked. “You won’t let me sleep with the rest of the men. You won’t let me eat within earshot of them either. I’m isolated from the rest of the unit, all because I feel that you don’t trust me.” He took a deep breath, allowing his fatigue from the past few days to appear for a brief moment. “And you wonder why I’m so quiet. So observant. Perhaps if I wasn’t made out to be an outsider to the rest of your people I wouldn’t be so strange to you.” Luna chuckled to herself before lifting what remained of her afternoon snack in front of her nose. She didn’t just look at it. No, Jacques thought to himself, she was staring THROUGH it. Her once understanding gaze transforming into an exercise of contemplation. She was studying him now, allowing a few moments to pass before giving him an answer. “I’ll tell you why I wanted to know if you were a politician. If not in this lifetime, perhaps in any other. It’s because politicians do one thing better than anyone else in any society. And that one thing is to lie.” She frowned. “From the moment we met each other I knew that you weren’t a soldier, despite the fact that you’re trained very well. Anyone else, even our esteemed General, would’ve been fooled into believing that you’re an honest asset to our ranks. But there’s something about you that’s never sat right with me, Lieutenant Jacques.” She rolled the now dripping fruit in her hand with the tips of her fingers and continued to focus on his face, trying to decipher any reaction to her words. “I know that you won’t tell me what you’re really doing here. And that’s fine. You have an agenda,” she purred, “I understand. But know this. I won’t let you taint my men. Not one whisper from your cancerous lips will reach the ears of those whose lives I am directly responsible for. You will not influence their dreams by bedding down among them and you will not sour their rations by helping them break their bread. I don’t know who or what you are, Lieutenant, but you’re not spreading your disease through my ranks.”

Art / Lupita Nyong'o photographed by Mert Alas and Marcus Piggott, Vogue Magazine October 2015 Tumblr: femmequeens

Confession: my husband doesn’t ever make an effort to find anything fun for us to do on our time off or our weekends. He gets upset when I don’t want to be the perfect housewife but sometimes I feel like if I put off doing housework at least I’ll have something to do when he’s off and wants to waste time sleeping. Being a young Navy wife with no friends in my area is starting to make me very depressed.

The Autobiography of Captain Evelyn Decker: A World War II and Korean War Veteran

This book tells the story of Captain Evelyn Decker, a pioneer, as one of the first African American nurses to serve in the U.S. Army. Having grown up in an integrated, accepting community in upstate New York, she was surprised and dismayed by the continual discrimination and segregation she faced as she served her country. Her spirit and strength illuminate her narrative, a history that should never be forgotten.

Women have long served in the Army, both unofficially by dressing as men, as well as in sanctioned roles as nurses. But until 1941, the Army had a ban on enlisting black women.

Through the efforts of prominent black women, and aided by first lady Eleanor Roosevelt, eventually the Army began to enlist black women as WACS, most serving as nurses.

Photo caption: Members of the Women’s Army Corps (WAC) pose at Camp Shanks, New York, before leaving from New York Port of Embarkation on February 2, 1945. The women are with the first contingent of Black American WACs to go overseas for the war effort From left to right are, kneeling: Pvt. Rose Stone; Pvt. Virginia Blake; and Pfc. Marie B. Gillisspie. Second row: Pvt. Genevieve Marshall; T/5 Fanny L. Talbert; and Cpl. Callie K. Smith. Third row: Pvt. Gladys Schuster Carter; T/4 Evelyn C. Martin; and Pfc. Theodora Palmer.

Photo source: https://www.theatlantic.com/photo/2011/09/world-war-ii-women-at-war/100145/#img04