Here's To The New Year

2015 is the year I disappear.
It’s the year I stop living my life for other people.
It’s the year I find happiness.
It’s the year I will inspire myself and others.
It’s the year I will be grounded and humble.
It’s the year I actually live.
2015 is the year I will be free.
I’ll make sure of that.
Here’s to the new year and the blessings that may be.
Goodbye to all the hardships and loss of the past 365.
This is the year I shall shed my skin and start anew.

-Asia Aneka Anderson
Tumblr: AsiaWrites

Tragic Best Friend Tales #1

        Bestie J was a girl I met at work in Ohio. Since we didn’t work in the same department we really didn’t become close until she was about to quit. We became really close over the years and only had a few fallouts like friends usually do. It got to be a bit much for me when every fallout was over pretty much the same thing.

        The last few years of our friendship was mainly through text and social media since I had moved to Chicago. There were a few visits back home, but not many as money was very tight at the time. Two years ago money got extremely tight and I had to come back home to Ohio. J texted me that she was very excited I was coming home so that we could hang out like old times. Once I got back it really was like old times. J is one of those people who will never ask you to do something, she waits for you to contact her. So if I asked her to do something on a day she’s busy and tell her to call me when she’s free I may as well forget ever getting that call. Before I moved away from home she would either do this, or she would give me a shitload of excuses, her favorite was “I’m broke.” because apparently it costs a ton of money to have a conversation with a friend that you may not see for a while *sarcasm*. When I got back into town those same excuses resurfaced. By this time I was very depressed because of my situation and not having my friends there to take my mind off of it made me slip deeper into depression. I just felt like no one cared. I could barely eat, get out of bed, or find a reason to even get dressed. It was a horrible time for me. Two years later and I’m still trying to cope, although I am much better than what I was. In about a 6 month period J only messaged me about 3 times. I had written her off long before that. I couldn’t see myself being friends with someone who would bail when their friends were in need.  I’ll admit one of those messages was to ask how I was, but the the conversation quickly turned into her complaining about her life. Why she would complain about her stable life to someone who just lost everything is beyond me. The second message I got from her about 4 months later was to tell me she was engaged and the third message was for my address to send an invite. My best friend didn’t even ask for me to be in her wedding. I was hurt by that, but I had to remind myself that this wasn’t anyone for me to be around anymore anyways.
        I had gotten tired of excuses from J. There were far too many in our friendship. I probably wouldn’t be as upset if she gave all her friends excuses, but she’d ditch me for other people and tell me she was broke as if I wouldn’t find out it was a lie. If you’re gonna lie, fine, but don’t post pics of your nights out on FB.

        But this tale isn’t about how shifty J was. The tragic part was her last hurrah. After almost a year of not hearing a peep out of her I receive a message on Facebook from her asking why I didn’t attend her wedding. I told her that I hadn’t heard anything from her and as far as I was concerned we weren’t friends anymore. Friends are there when you need them most and she was not. I told her of the hard time I had when I returned to Ohio and all I got from her were excuses. I explained to her how I just found it hard to even keep going. Instead of trying to understand how I felt at that time she decided to twist the dagger a bit and tell me that “the phone works both ways” and that I “focus on the negative.” You’re right. My life was turned upside down. I lost my car, my home, and had to return to Ohio with and to nothing. I really should’ve had a fucking smile on my face after all that, right? What kind idiot says that to someone after something like that?

        I’m never one to focus on 100% of the bad things someone has done to me. I always give credit where credit is due. I will always appreciate that the whole time I lived in Chicago she was the ONLY person solely to come visit me and she did that twice. I will always remember that. Family never even came to visit me, but she did. But my family did comfort me when I was on the verge of giving up and J was no where to be found. I think it angered me because I expected more from her. I thought if anyone could’ve help me get through the storm I was in it would’ve been her and I was sadly mistaken and it broke my heart.

-Asia Aneka Anderson, 2014(c)
I wish I was the type of person to not let people’s actions change me. A man lies to me and I think “All men are liars.” A friend betrays me and I think “I have NO friends” even though I know I have at least one who would never harm me. I let the actions of a few people in my past harden me which makes me cold towards people who could be a part of my future. It’s not fair, but that’s how it is. I have a hard time differentiating between good and bad people so I classify everyone as bad. I’ve had so many people take advantage of me that I have my guard up constantly. I’m always irritable and moody because I don’t want people to get close enough to hurt me. I want to change this. I know deep down I am the type of person who is friendly, semi-sociable, giddy, caring, sensitive, etc, but I hide all that because I’m afraid that everyone will take advantage of my kindness. My attitude has definitely ruined possible friendships because I just don’t want to be bothered with the paranoia of “what does this person want from me?” I know that I can’t carry this baggage with me and it will be a very long process for me. This process would be easier for me if I could 100% let go of the people who did hurt me instead of sitting back with the high hopes that they’ll be the ones to change their ways. I know it won’t work like that, but I’m hanging onto the thought that it will. I should focus more on becoming a better person instead of letting these type of folks turn me into something I’m not. In the end of the day they’re focused on themselves and not worried about how their actions affect me, so why do I care so much?

-Asia Aneka Anderson
So much time spent in fear. Afraid to speak our minds. Afraid to tell others we love them. We’re so scared of rejection. I often think how much my life would be different if I had said the things I needed to say. I’ve been an outcast all of my life and the lifestyle stuck. What if I had thrown that to the wind and become an outgoing person? Would I be living where I dream of living? Would I have the career I’ve always wanted and more? Would I be married? Would my goals be completely different from what they are now? It all boils down to my fear of rejection. It keeps us from doing a lot of things. It would be nice to find the courage to take more risks. I let my mind drift and think of packing my bags and hopping on a bus to anywhere USA out of reach from everyone. I’d like to find the courage to go up to a stranger and start a conversation. I want to be that person who isn’t shaking with fear to speak in front f a crowd. I want to find that fearless side of me. It’s funny how most of us share the same insecurities yet are still afraid to acknowledge that there’s no need to be afraid of one another if we’re each dealing with these insecurities in some form. I can make promises that I’ll be without fear and my dreams lie to me and show me that it’s possible, but I know this is something that will always be apart of me. Little by little maybe I can be how I picture parallel universe me would act. More than that I hope to one day see that I am beautiful, worthy of love, worthy of all those dreams I reach for. I hope one day that everyone will see that they are unique and beautiful beings. We spend too much time in this life in our heads thinking that we are not magnificent. We indeed are. I’ll promise to find that in myself if you promise to find that in yourself. Deal?
-Asia Aneka Anderson
"Finding my path to nowhere land."

-Asia Aneka Anderson 2015©

My Struggle With Religion

I often wonder that if I believed in God my life would perhaps be much better. I look at people who go through hell, but take it in stride because they believe that in the end God is looking out for them. If I believed in God would I be where I need to be?
I’d like to believe that if God is real he looks out for those who do their best whether they’re believers or not, but that’s not a belief I hold highly. I see people who do horrible things to others, whether it be a big corporation who makes (or steals) tons of money without putting it back into communities, crooked politicians, or large groups who promote hate speech they seem to have it easy and are making millions on others pain. Yet the people who have faith can barely make ends meet, die from terminal illnesses, or run into crisis after crisis.
Although I’ve had a rough few years or more I will admit that things in my life could be far far worse. I’m not where I want to be in my life and things don’t ever go the way I plan, but I could be facing a bigger struggle than I currently am. With that knowledge I know that someone is looking out for me. Whether that is God, I don’t know. I have spirituality, but the stubbornness in me refuses to believe. When I reflect on the tiny blessings I have I stop and ask “Would these blessings be bigger if I did believe that God exists?”
I’ve had a hard time with religion all of my life. Where I come from if people claim to be Christians they are the, what I like to call, “part time Christians”. The type who will go to church every Sunday and as soon as they leave judge other people on everything from what they wear, to weight, to their sexuality. It was always confusing to me because I always thought only God could judge. That’s something I didn’t want to be apart of. I didn’t want to be a member of a community who didn’t practice what they preached. If God truly is love then where is the love?
Religion is something I know I’ll always struggle with in some way. I will always have my beliefs that everything happens for a reason, no one is given more than they can handle, and that everyone has a guardian angel. That’s as close to believing as I’ll get for the time being. The only thing I can do is try to be a good person and help others any way I can and accept all blessings that come my way, big or small.

-Asia Aneka Anderson


Dancing with the sun.
Beauty in this life shines bright.
Wrapped in happiness.

-Asia Aneka Anderson
Tumblr: AsiaWrites

Review: Now Solutions Coconut Oil

Hello, everyone!

I finally got around to making this post. I picked up the Now Solutions coconut oil about a month ago. I've been shopping around to find a coconut oil that works really well and saw this at a local health food store.
With this particular kind of coconut oil it's more of a waxy texture, but quickly and easily melts in the hand. Which I prefer over just straight liquid form. In my opinion, it doesn't give off a coconut smell like I'm used to with other oils.

You can see here that it looks more like a wax.

Here you can see it's starting to melt.

 The first few times I used this oil I used it after I would wash or co-wash my hair and then I would twist my hair afterwards. Now it took me a while to do this review because I didn't really like how it left my hair after I twisted it. I felt like it left my hair kind of dull and after a few days my hair would start to smell. The only way I would describe it was sort of a stale smell or the type of smell you would get from a plain candle after it's set for a while. It wasn't an overwhelming smell, but I could tell it was there. Last week I co-washed my hair. After I detangled I put the coconut oil on and decided not to twist my hair. It worked much better this way. It probably had something to do with my putting in a hot oil treatment also, but my hair was shinier and felt healthier. Even a few days later I wet my hair and put some of the oil on and I didn't get that dull feeling.
My hair has shine to it.

For the Now Solutions coconut oil: C+

We Can't Breathe

Blood covered sheets fill these streets.
Dead bodies everywhere.
Another mother without a son.
Another wife without a husband.
Another child without a parent.
Another human life turned into a hashtag.
A whole community gasping for air because we can’t breathe.
The cries get attention, but the message is lost.
Debates on the evening news as to who’s right and who’s wrong.
Everyone forgetting that a human life ended at the hands of another.
The people in power ignore the fact that we can’t breathe.
We walk around on eggshells.
Don’t look threatening.
Keep hands outside pockets.
Hold onto the breath you have left.
Remember that in a black man’s hands a wallet is a gun.
Sagging pants make you a drug dealer.
Asking questions make you a menace.
Our lives hold value.
Yet there’s still bloody sheets, lifeless bodies, and cries of anger.
Let. Us. Breathe.
We have been gasping for air for far too long.
How many times do we have to yell “WE CAN’T BREATHE!” until the world believes us?
I’m holding my breath until the day that we can breathe.
Just let us breathe.

-Asia Aneka Anderson
Tumblr: AsiaWrites

Am I An Object?

It’s a question I’ve been asking myself a lot lately. In most of my 32 years I don’t feel like I’ve been seen as a person. I feel like I’ve always been treated like an object or product. When I was a child around extended family it was all about looks. No one was interested in my talents, education, interests, or anything else. The women in my family are very much image obsessed. So if I gained a few pounds it was definitely noticed. If I dressed like a tomboy it was always “Why don’t you wear more dresses?”. It was always about how I looked and not who I was. That didn’t come until much later and by that point I had learned to despise these people. They started the ball rolling of me hating myself because I never felt good enough with all of their poking and prodding at my looks all the time.
As I got older it got worse on a whole other level. I developed early. And I do mean early. I was in a training bra by 8 and in a DD cup by 15. Everyone noticed. From the moment of about middle school it was very hard to tell if boys liked me for me or the size of my breasts. At 32 I’m still asking myself that very question. In high school I’d joke about my breasts with friends. I’d make boob jokes, because back then it really wasn’t a big deal to me. In a way I kind of liked the attention. Had a crush on a guy? No problem, just throw on a v-neck the next day. Might get his attention. Didn’t happen often because I was (and in some way, still am) a big tomboy. I wore the big baggy skater jeans, Sketchers or Chucks, and band or novelty tees. When I would switch it up and wear something low cut it would  DEFINITELY get attention because it was such a rarity. In my late teens and 20s I’d go hang out with friends at all the places people at that age hang out and there would always be a random guy who would want to hug me purely just to feel my breast against him. No biggie. I was used to it by then. In some weird way it made me feel powerful, like I have something these guys want.
Looking back I see that maybe I sexualized myself and not because I wanted to. I made myself believe it’s because I wanted to, but it was for the attention I got. It became a given that if I was going out then I had to put on something tight and revealing. Then it just became a habit. Now I’m at a point in my life where I sort of know what I want career wise (I’ve spent so long confused on that subject) and I want to settle down with someone that I want to be with for the rest of my life. Whether that be man, woman, or other I have no idea, but I do know I’m ready to build a life with someone. The more I try to date the more I realize I’m still attracting men who only see me as body parts. No one wants to get to know my hopes, dreams, likes, dislikes, past, or otherwise. It’s only about how they want to fuck me, what’s my bra size, and sending a collection of dick pics. Honestly I do welcome these conversations sometimes and afterwards I feel dirty. I engage in these conversations telling myself that it’s okay when really all I want a man to do is ask me about my life and to start the conversation like an adult. When I get these men to try and engage in a conversation it’s always elementary things like “What’s your favorite movie?” or “What is your favorite color?”. Nothing deep ever comes of it and I feel let down. I feel like there is absolutely no one interested in my story. No one. So I accept the dick pics and the dirty talk and move on. I obsess over what pic to make my avi. Is my makeup right? Can you see my tits? Is my hair okay? I do the same when I venture out into the world, even if it’s something simple as going to the grocery store. After all these are the only reasons that men are attracted to me, and it’s partly my fault for making them see me that way. So am I an object? Surely I am not. Surely I don’t want to be seen that way. The only way to stop others from seeing me that way is for me to stop seeing it myself. That is a work slowly in progress.
-Asia Aneka Anderson
"I’d rather fly than stand still."

-Asia Aneka Anderson 2015©

Still Mind

Keeping my life sane.
Chaos revolves around me.
Centering my mind.

-Asia Aneka Anderson
Tumblr: AsiaAneka
Been playing around with different styles and my hair ACTUALLY cooperated haha

November sunset
"Loving myself is an impossible task."

-Asia Aneka Anderson 2015©
"Worshiping faceless deities searching for faith."

-Asia Aneka Anderson 2015©
"In this universe love is infinite."

-Asia Aneka Anderson 2015©
"Gave him my heart to break."

-Asia Aneka Anderson 2015©
"Unfulfilled in the absence of happiness."

-Asia Aneka Anderson 2015©

Tragic Boyfriend Tales #5

Out of the few adult relationships I’ve had I was with boyfriend O the longest. It was no easy feat since 90% of our relationship was long distance. There were more ups than downs in this relationship, which I was grateful for. We tried our best to see each other during holidays, school breaks, and we talked every single day either on the phone or Skype. Nine months into dating I could feel him sort of pulling away. I wasn’t sure if it was due to us being in different states, because we were in an interracial relationship, or because he wasn’t ready for something really serious. One day while on Skype he casually brought up the idea of us possibly taking a break. When he saw how hurt I was he stressed that it wasn’t an end to our relationship, just a break. There wasn’t much I could do from so far away. We shelved the conversation, but I could tell he was set in his decision, but I didn’t agree with it.
That weekend I decided to hang out with someone I had been friends with on social media for years. He was a native of my new city and I thought since he knew the area and plus we went to the same school it would be cool to hang out with him. That entire day I spent with this person and decided to go watch movies with him in his dorm that evening. The whole entire time I texted boyfriend O. Although he wanted a break we still talked everyday. This day was no different. I told him about my day and who I was with and there was no problem. As the day went on the sexual tension between this guy and I kept growing. Before I knew it we couldn’t stop kissing. I finally got the nerve to back off and tell him I couldn’t, which was hard because he was an amazing kisser (I’m an asshole, I know). Still after this I didn’t leave. I stayed and we watched more movies. Later one of his friends came over and while they played video games I called and talked to O for a while, omitting the information of me making out with my new friend pretty much the whole afternoon. As the night when on the guy’s friend left and since it was too late for me to catch a bus home so I decided to stay. You can guess what happened next. I tried to make myself feel better by reminding myself that O wanted a break anyways so technically it wasn’t cheating. Didn’t work at all. I ended up crying the rest of the night and kicking myself for not taking a cab home before things got out of hand.
That next morning I went home and racked my brain how to tell O. Later that evening I Skyped him and told him everything. I’m not the type of person who likes to or wants to lie which is why I told him first chance I got. It hurt me to see him hurt, but was surprised when he said he just wanted to sleep on it. We talked about it for a few days, no arguments, just hashing out our feelings. We stayed together for 3 months after that. Part of me thinks that this incident is why we broke up, at least on his end. For me we broke up for entirely different reasons.
These tragic tales aren’t all about horrible, stupid, immature exes or crushes. They’re also about me. I’m human and I make mistakes too (not many). This is one of them and I hurt someone that I cared for. We weren’t right for each other and I somewhat knew that early on in the relationship, but I learned to care about him and he was with me through some pretty tough times. Sucks because even though a relationship with him was pretty bad we still could’ve been pretty good friends. That’s life though.

-Asia Aneka Anderson

Hair Growth Update

Hi everyone,
I just wanted to show you guys an update on my hair growth. I made a few posts in the past about the castor oil challenge. This challenge started in September and ends this week.
As you can see my hair has grown a bit. Not a whole lot, but I can definitely see a difference. For some reason it's growing faster in the back than anywhere else. The kind of castor oil I've using is the Jamaican black. I use it everyday around my edges, hairline, and the nape of my neck (pretty much the whole circumference of me head) and on the crow of my head. This is the result of that. There is another castor oil challenge coming up and you have until December 7th to register and will run until March 1st. You should really join and if not you should at least pop by the website because this girl posts amazing tips for natural hair. I'll try to post more updates as far as my natural hair journey. I still have a few reviews to do that hopefully I can get up in the next few weeks. I bought a new coconut oil and I want to use it a few more times before I post anything because I'm still on the fence about if I like it or not. Until next time! :)

My Country Tis of Thee

I live in a country where my future children will have targets on their backs.
Where from a young age I’ll have to train them to have two different personae and in order to become successful they may have to make the hard choice to abandon who they truly are to adopt the persona that makes people more “comfortable”.                                                         
A country where I’ll have to tell them that if they’re around police or in a white neighborhood to not look “suspicious”. I’ll have to remind them to always keep their heads up, be super friendly, and smile, no matter what kind of day you’re having, as to not look threatening.
Where I’ll have to make sure they know the laws and their rights as if they’d written them themselves.
Where if their clothes are a size or two too big they’ll be perceived as “thugs” and “criminals” even if they are straight A or honor roll students.
A country where I will have to thoroughly teach my future children the horror as well as success stories of their ancestors because schools will gloss over it and instead shove lies about Christopher Columbus and the founding fathers down their throats.
A country where no matter how much I tell them “you can.” I’ll have to inform them the rest of the world will them “you can’t.” and that is something they will have to not take to heart.
A country where my future children will have to work twice as hard as anyone else, if not more, to make it.
A country where people will turn their noses up at them purely for the color of their skin before even knowing the content of their character.
Where I’ll have to teach them that no matter how good their grades are, how many degrees they earn, or how many suits they own they will still be followed around in stores because of the color of their skin.
I live in a country where I’ll have to teach my future children that they are not seen as people to some, but more as untamed animals.
A country where if they want to speak out against injustices they will be seen as “threats” and “troublemakers”.
A country where their culture is praised and imitated, but black PEOPLE are not.
A country where brown faces are all that are seen on the nightly news in a horrible light in order to keep fear alive of brown people.
Where if they run into a legal situation they will receive the maximum sentence because of our corrupt justice system when it comes to people of color.
Where if their name is outside of the norm an employer will toss their resume aside.
Where no matter how hard they work at a job they will still not be as appreciated as much as the laziest white man in the office.
A country where if my future children decide to date outside of their race there are certain parts of the country where they will have to always look behind their backs.
A country where if my kids are dark skinned they’ll be told over and over again that they are not as beautiful as a light skinned person. I will have the hard task of telling them that because our people have been brainwashed for so long these negative words will most likely come from their own people.
I live in a country where if my future children were homosexual I’d have to explain to them that there are people who will want to hurt them just for being who they are and spew hateful words out of one side of their mouth while quoting the Bible out of the other.
A country where if my future son or daughter want to marry someone of the same sex in some states they still can’t.
A country where if my future children aren’t straight an employer can terminate them simply because of who they love.
A country where I’ll have to tell my daughter that she will not be paid as much as a man even if she works harder.
Where I’ll have show my daughter how people scoff at the idea of a woman in power.
A country where I will have to tell my future daughter to always be aware of her surroundings, carry a weapon, and don’t dress provocatively because if she is raped the world will look at her to blame instead of her attacker.
I will have to teach my children that this is the land of the free unless you’re a person of color, any sexuality other than straight, or a woman.
But these are things I won’t have to teach my future children because I live in a country that has made me fearful to have children. A place that makes me cringe when I think that in some shape or form parents have to have these conversations with their kids. Parents have to have these conversations because nothing in this country is equal and they have to make their children aware of that at an early age in order to keep them safe. If that isn’t a sad realization I don’t know what is. And if that doesn’t make you scared then I don’t know what will.

-Asia Aneka Anderson

What I'm Thankful For

Some years it’s easy to think of what I’m thankful for while some years I wonder “what’s the point?”
I’m thankful that I’m here to see another day even though there are days I wish I didn’t exist.
I’m thankful that I get better each day.
I’m thankful for the strength that keeps me going when I want to give up.
I’m thankful for the small number of people that genuinely care. The ones that I know I can truly count on.
I’m thankful for Tumblr for giving me a place to not be afraid to share my life with total strangers.
I’m thankful for these total strangers who saw my cries for help when those around me didn’t. Thank you for lending me your ears.
Even though I want more and have had more in the past I’m thankful for what I have right now.
I’m thankful for the once in a lifetime experiences I’ve had.
I’m thankful for the laughter through the tough times.
I’m thankful for the ability to feel. For so long I thought that I was dying inside.
I’m thankful for the talent I have with words.
I’m thankful for the successful future I’ll have with these passionate words.
I’m thankful for a better life ahead.
I’m thankful for life, love, family, and friends.
I may not have a lot of it, but I’m thankful for the little bit I’ve got.

-Asia Aneka Anderson

The Mighty Flower Grows

I hear the beating of the rain against my window.
The skies overcome with grey.                                          
A lightening fear shakes the ground.                                                 
When the tears fall from the sky life can begin down below.
What I wouldn’t give to be a flower standing in the rain.
Mighty, powerful, and strong.                                                        
Breaking the surface to be free.
Facing the howling wind my roots keeping me grounded and brave.
From this darkness can I grow?
Grow to be mighty?
Grow to tower over my fears?
Or will the darkness of the clouds make me weary?                          
Sunlight fades away the grey.                                                            
Again I am mighty, powerful, and strong.      

 -Asia Aneka Anderson                  
Tumblr: AsiaWrites 

Tragic Crush Tales #4

If you’ve read any of the lovey dovey type poems I’ve posted as of late they are all about crush L. The only words I can use to describe this man is: intelligent, caring, cool, laid back, artistic, and the perfect match for me, truly.
I met him at my first job in Chicago back in 2009. When I first laid eyes on him I just knew he was someone I was going to click with. The romantic feelings didn’t start off right away. I still had an overwhelming feeling of nervousness because I’m in this big city by myself and hadn’t been there long, I was starting this job where most people had been for a long time, were a tight knit family, and I know I’m not the easiest person to get to know, and when I did start this job I was given a heads up that the store was closing in less than a year. With all of those feelings swirling in my head I had no time to stop and listen to my heart pitter-patter.
I quickly started to fit in and especially when months later a girl from another store came to work at ours. I instantly clicked with her, even though we were total opposites. By this time I had started looking at L in a different way. One day me and the girl were talking and she told me that she had liked L. They had known each other a while so I never said anything about my feelings. All my life I’ve only had one friend not go after a guy I liked and I’ll be damned if I do that to someone else. So from that moment on since L and I had the same interests, sort of the same attitude I started to call him my big brother. When I think about it the first time I called him that he looked kind of crushed. But I had to put that label out there to make my feelings subside so that I don’t make a move on my friends crush.
As months went on L and I got closer. Not in a romantic way, but in a sort of best friend way. I don’t have many people where I feel just opening up my soul too, but he was one of those people. He made me feel completely comfortable from the first conversation we had. There were a few times were after work we’d go walk and talk for what seemed like hours. A few times I’d be on the verge of tears because of whatever we were talking about and he would be the type of person to grab my hand and just listen. I never got any judgmental words from him let alone looks. I’d never gotten that feeling from any of my girlfriends let alone a guy.
One summer night we decided to meet up and go to this reggae club and no one else wanted to go with him. I really liked hanging out with him , but I was kind of nervous to go because he’s a real cool dude and I’m a black chick who can’t dance for shit. When we arrived everything was fine and fun, but he slowly started to get agitated that I wouldn’t dance. I’d try to do the minimal, but it seemed to annoy him that he kept trying to get me out of my shell and I refused to. We only stayed a few hours and I guess he got tired of watching me pretty much just stand around. When we left, I don’t know how it happened, but all of a sudden we were in a screaming match as we walked down the street. I don’t know if he felt like I ruined his good night or if he was upset that I didn’t let loose, but I do know we were literally screaming at each other. It was weird though, once we got on the bus we were mad at first then we kinda looked at each other and that anger was completely gone. Once we got downtown we decided to just keep the night going since the buses that would take us home all the way to the south side had long since stopped running for the night. We bar hopped a bit and then decided to go to the beach. We climbed onto the lifeguard stand and talked for hours until the sun rose. I couldn’t tell you what we talked about, but it was one of the best nights I had in Chicago. Honestly, I lived there for over 4 years and the only other awesome nights I had was seeing Paul McCartney for the first time, seeing U2 for the first time, and seeing Coldplay, RHCP, and Jack White at Lollapalooza. Still my night with L ranks above most of these events.
The only downside to my night with L is that the sexual tension was high and nothing happened. We did the most romantic thing in the world like watching the sunrise and absolutely nothing happened. I was torn. I didn’t know if his anger from earlier that night was because he liked me and didn’t know how to say it (because that’s definitely where my anger came from) or if he didn’t like me in that way at all. It could’ve been possible that he didn’t think I liked him in that way. Either way it was an opportunity lost.
Another opportunity happened when we went to see “Hot Tub Time Machine” after work one day. Afterwards we went for a walk and talked again for hours. At one point I could feel him lean in, but again nothing happened. I had even looked into his eyes, not backing away, and still nothing. In the back of my mind was always that my friend liked him and the only way I was going to act on anything is if he acted first, but we never got to that point.
 By summer of 2010 I had found another job, which the girl who also liked L helped me get, in just enough time before this job closed shop. My new job worked me like a dog, so I barely had time for me let alone trying to keep in contact with other people. L and I would talk here and there and then slowly it turned into the occasional “Hello” or “Happy birthday” on Facebook. As of late he’s really been on my mind. I’m not sure if it’s because I’m at a point in my life where I want to settle down and build something with someone and when I think of the perfect mate it’s his face that pops up. I’ve tried talking with other men whom I do like, but in the end of the day it comes straight back to him. Just as in “Hot Tub Time Machine” I really believe he was my great white buffalo.
I know most of my Tragic Tales are about asshole exes and crushes in my life who had done me wrong in some way, but this is a different type of tragic. It’s tragic because perhaps we would’ve been great together. Perhaps we would have flourished. He very well may have been the one and I ran from that because I chose friendship over possible happiness. It’s even more tragic because to this day I’m still terrified to tell him how I feel. How do you tell a person you haven’t said much to in 3 years that you can’t stop thinking about them? The shy girl in me posts obscure statuses on Facebook hoping he’ll see and get the hidden meaning and say something. Most likely I know I’ll post this with that same foolish hope. I tell myself that if it’s meant to be it will be, but I know that there is no way he will ever know what is in my heart unless I actually tell him and I know that’s something I don’t have the courage to do. I don’t want to face the rejection of him telling me he’s with someone, or even worse, married, or even worse than that, him telling me he never saw me that way at all. As much as I think about him it’s a risk I should be taking, but it’s a risk I’m just not willing to take yet. Just another opportunity wasted.

Tragic Crush Tales #3

        Crush G was the shit sprinkles on top of a shit sundae that 2013 was starting out to be. I had met G on Twitter of all places. We noticed each other through a mutual person we were following. The weird thing about it is the person we were following was the girl who was the main person in the Catfish finale of season 1. That should have been a sign. Well, one day she was tweeting about not being able to find love (this was all before her episode even aired) and we both at the same time were trying to give her encouraging words. We both saw each other and liked what we saw and it all started from there. We’d message each other all the time and send little flirtatious tweets back and forth.
        As sad as it sounds during this time he became my everything. Just a few months earlier I was kicked out of my place in Chicago and had to move back to Dayton. People that I called my very best friends were super excited I was coming back home, but when I did land in Ohio I never heard from these people (and now it’s almost 2015 and I really still haven’t). Losing my place and returning to hell was depressing enough, when my friends completely abandoned me when I needed them most made my world crumble. I had no one else, so I latched onto G. He said all the right things and made me feel cared for. Soon we were texting to get to know each other better than what 140 characters can hold. We talked about likes, dislikes, exes, and family. Something that always stuck out in my mind was once when I asked him about his last relationship he said they had broken up that summer (I started talking to him in January 2013) because she was just “crazy” but that she was still in is life because they had kids together. I asked how many kids, and he stated he had 3. One kid that was his, one that was hers from a previous relationship but since the father was not around he stepped up to assume the role. He never described the third, which I thought was weird, but I ignored because I was just happy to finally get to know him better.
We talked everyday for weeks, whether it was by text, Twitter, or a few times talking on the phone. During those few weeks there were a few times where he started to act really strange. I could say something really simple or tweet about something that had nothing to do with him and he would completely lose his shit. We wouldn’t talk for a few days and then everything would be back to normal. He would go back to leaving cutesy tweets about how much he liked me and things of that nature. By late January we were still messaging each other everyday and talking about meeting each other soon and he had even told me that he was looking for jobs near me so that he could move here. I was happy about the news, but I knew he would have to be insane to move here from Detroit and only be able to see his kids probably a few times a year. I still thought it was a nice gesture seeing as by that point my friends were still nowhere in sight. One day in February I texted him because I hadn’t heard from him in a few days since he had started a new job. He replied saying he was busy with work, as I had assumed, and that he was scared of his feelings for me. “I’m falling for you hard, Asia. It’s crazy.” I was shocked, but honestly I was feeling the same way. “There’s three words I want to tell you so bad,” he said. I cared for him a lot, but saying “I love you” wasn’t in my vocabulary at that time. I don’t throw that around lightly. We talked a bit more and he was understanding as to why I didn’t want to rush those kinds of feelings since we hadn’t met yet.
For a few more weeks things were going great. Not even a two weeks later he sent me a text saying that he’s getting back together with his kids mom to make their family work. I wasn’t upset about that. If you both care about each other and want to make it work for the kids then you should do that. I was upset because not too long before he’s practically saying he loved me and days after he continued to tell me how much he wanted to be with me. I was totally confused by that. Instead of trying to help me understand as to how feelings like that can be turned off like a light switch, he decided to subtweet me on Twitter like a juvenile saying I was trying to break up his family. I was extremely pissed by that point. How dare you spring this news on me and then talk shit about me like I’m the bad guy?
A few weeks later I received a message on Facebook from an account I had never seen before. It was his kids mom. At first she tried to get huffy with me until I had to keep drilling into her head that I knew nothing about her other than they had kids together. She first told me she found out about me by seeing some messages of mine on his phone and when she questioned him he just told her that I was “crazy.” I told her it figured since he said the same of her. We started to compare notes. He told me that they had broken up summer ‘12. She said they had, but got back together by November which means a month after that he started talking to me. I put two and two together that the few days I didn’t hear from him or the few times he went ape shit on me for no reason are times that his gf was probably coming over and he had to find some way to get rid of me for a few days. She told me they had the one kid together and one on the way. It started to click of that time when he told me of his kids and only described two, I do suppose it’s hard to describe a kid that isn’t born yet. It wasn’t as if she was a few months pregnant either, she was about to burst by this time. She said they were pretty much married. Not sure if she meant legally or they were “FB married.” Either way I didn’t give a shit. I told her I had 90% of all our texts and tweets saved. She wanted me to text them to her, but I’m sorry, if he was nuts then most likely she was too. There was no way in hell I was going to give her access to my number (the phone I had wouldn’t let me screen shot so I couldn’t have messaged her on FB with them).
I blocked both of them on all social media. As I searched to see if they had any backup accounts that I should block as well I found old ones of theirs on Twitter and most of the timelines consisted of them arguing back and forth. So it’s possible they’re both “crazy” and are the type of couple who will continually break up every 6-8 months while popping out babies.
I’d like to say that after this happened I brushed it off in a “Fuck him” sort of way, but I didn’t. The way my year was already going I just saw it as another person who felt the need to use and abandon me and for that I say “fuck him”. It’s things like this that make me put up a wall with people. I don’t understand someone who can lie about something like that. Either be with your girl or not, but if you’re going to be with her don’t emotionally cheat on her with other people and hurt multiple people in the process. Yes, I’m sure there were other girls besides me. And yes he is a dick for that.

-Asia Aneka Anderson, 2014(c)

Tragic Boyfriend Tales #4

I met boyfriend L through a mutual friend. I thought he was very attractive and asked my best friend to set us up. To this day I still believe our first date was the best first date I’d ever been on. We went to dinner and a movie and since we didn’t want to leave each other we went back to his place and stayed up all night watching movies. I was leaving Ohio for Chicago not even two months after we met, but we decided to give a relationship a go anyways. We became attached to the hip instantly, making sure to spend every minute together until it was time for me to leave. I fell for him hard from the start. Very hard.

One day he was over at my house. We got tired of packing and decided to take a movie break. The movie started to bore me halfway through so I started playing a game on his phone. All of a sudden he takes the phone from me and tells me he wants to show me something. He flips through his phone for a few minutes and then shoves it in my face once he’s found the picture he’s looking for. He pushed the phone so close to my face I had to back up to see what it was. When I saw it I was actually dumbfounded. It was a photo of him making out with the very friend that hooked us up. “Why would you show me this?” I asked him. I wasn’t even snooping on his phone so why go out of the way to show me something like that? He just shrugged, “I don’t know.” He assured me that the pic was before we met, but I was still puzzled as to why he would show me that as if he was proud. You don’t show a girl a picture of you kissing her best friend nor do you keep it saved on your phone. I was upset with him, but I have to say I was more upset with my friend. She should have told me beforehand that they had either liked each other at one point or something. Whether or not she would’ve given her blessing I wouldn’t have dated him. That’s girl code. If I had a man in my life that I’d never dated, but maybe we tried for a short period of time or fooled around I’d tell my friend beforehand if she wanted to date him so that info doesn’t come out later and make things awkward.

Looking back on the situation I feel like he only dated me to get back at her. A sort of “Well if you don’t like me I’ll date your best friend”. Possibly he was hoping to make her jealous and to want him after seeing him with me. Sort of backfired on him. I look back at little things he used to say. In the beginning I remember him saying “A long time ago I liked H, but she would blow me off then she told me she had a friend that liked me (moi) so I thought ‘Hell yeah’.” Stupid of me to not question that further. Even though we stayed together almost a year after that I honestly didn’t feel like I could trust him anymore. I turned into the girl who would check his phone when he left the room and I am honestly not that kind of girl. There were many questionable things L did throughout our relationship, but this was the first in a long line of “WTF?” moments.

-Asia Aneka Anderson

Another Naturally Me

I haven't posted much about it since I started the castor oil challenge. It's a 3 month challenge to help promote natural hair growth. Well the challenge is almost over and I couldn't be happier with my hair. I can definitely tell that it's growing and it's incredibly soft. A new challenge is starting up December 7th and you should definitely join. Within the next couple of weeks I'll post updates of my hair growth progress as well as reviews for the castor oil I have been using as well as a new coconut oil I purchased recently. I wanted to share a few pics with you guys of my hair pinned up. My twist outs never go as planned so I've been playing around with different styles. I don't feel like my hair is long enough or the texture to do a lot of styles I'd like to, but I'm learning.
I was messing around with my hair the other day and was able to get my hair to do hat I wanted for once. So I'll try my best to get these updates posted soon and again you guys should definitely join the challenge. The deadline to register is Dec. 7th and runs until March. There may be another challenge come summer, but I'm not 100% when that will start, but I will post once it's known.
Bye guys! :)
Asia Aneka Anderson

Killing Myself To Be Pretty

I’ve never been the pretty girl and the world would always remind me.
As a young girl I learned that no one liked ugly.
I’d stare into mirrors and ponder why God would do such a thing.
Picked on by the boys in class.
Treated like the outcast at home.
Ugly duckling.
Black sheep.
I grew into a woman constantly wanting to feel pretty.
Self conscience of everything about me.
Pulling, tugging, and sucking it in.
When my hips expanded the world was sure to point it out.
When I didn’t wear makeup the world turned up its nose in disgust.
Skip a meal or two or three.
Create homemade mask that could burn away the ugly.
When my waist started to shrink and my skin began to clear the world struggled to find the words of praise as if the words would burn their lips.
Backhanded compliments of “You’d look better if….” and “You look nice, but…” were the norm.
Genuine words of encouragement were far and few in between.
Still I felt unpretty.
Still I stood in the mirror asking “Why?”
Why can’t I be beautiful?
Why was I raised believing that being pretty was necessary?
Why can’t I be loved for simply being me?
People appear out of nowhere with compliments.
Some social media notification of a stranger calling me “beautiful” catches me off guard.
My beauty is now measured in likes and views, but these people don’t like me.
They like the girl with the bright smile, painted mask, and clever filter that appears in a newsfeed.
That girl is pretty, but she is not me.
I have never been pretty.
Many made sure to tell me that from the moment I could create memories.
That little girl who’s always felt ugly and out of place will forever be a part of me.
All I’ve ever wanted was to feel pretty but whether I wanted it for myself or others is unclear.
I’ve never been the pretty girl.
That is a girl I’ll never see through my eyes.

-Asia Aneka Anderson
Tumblr: AsiaWrites

Who I Am.

I know exactly who I am. I have no idea where I’m going, I don’t know what life has in store for me, and I don’t know what I want to be, but I DO know who I am. I don’t think a lot of people truly know deep down who they are. When I say that I mean I know how I act, react, my flaws, I know my strengths and my weaknesses, and I embrace all of this. I feel like that’s rare. I feel that way because I don’t know many people who embrace their weaknesses and flaws. Honestly I probably embrace those parts of myself more than my strengths. I think weakness and flaws mold you more than anything because you learn from them.

I know that I have a horrible habit of treating my shitty friends like gold and my golden friends like shit. I’ve always been like that and I don’t know why. I see it. I recognize it. I try to catch myself when I see myself doing it, but sometimes it’s too late. I’ve been accused of being an overprotective friend. It’s true to a point, but it’s because I don’t want my friends to get hurt. I’m motherly in that way. Honestly I’m overprotective because that’s how I wish people were with me. I know that people use me and sometimes I just let it happen because it’s better than being alone. I know that I can be very irritable and mean for no reason. People ask me simple questions and if I’m not in the mood to talk instead of saying “I’m sorry, not now.” I snap, or huff, and roll my eyes. I know that when it comes to the things I want to do in life if the path to reach this goal isn’t clear and planned out I just give up entirely. I won’t even try. I know that I need things to go as planned and if it doesn’t I go into a panic. I don’t believe in myself. Not 100%, but a good portion of me is shrouded in doubt. I just don’t feel like I’m as talented as I used to be despite my great ideas. I know that deep down I am very sensitive and I put on a tough guy persona. I know that sometimes I can hold grudges. It’s not that I hold onto them, it’s just that I have trust issues. I have had moments where I try to forgive and forget when someone has done me wrong only to have to break that trust again so now I have a habit of keeping my guard up with everyone. A big flaw I have is I don’t point out my flaws to people. If I do something unintentionally that hurts someone and I know that I did I won’t say anything unless the other person says something. If they do I’ll explain and apologize, but if they don’t I’ll pretend it never happened. People tell me that I’m negative, but I just feel like I have a realistic outlook on life. Death, war, racism, homophobia, terrorism, suicide, etc happens every day. Just because I acknowledge that doesn’t make me negative. It makes me too aware. I can’t really express love the way I want to. I wasn’t brought up with a ton of hugs and kisses and “I love yous”. Sometimes I pull away when people try to hug me because I’m not used to it. That reaction isn’t me being mean, it’s just very awkward for me. But I do have a lot of love to give I just have a hard time showing it because I don’t know how. I have a horrible horrible habit of being mean to people I don’t find attractive. That’s something I’m really sorry about. It’s a habit I grew up watching and just like with my habit of not treating my great friends as great as they treat me I try to stop myself when I see it happening. I know a lot of my bad habits are things I watched from family growing up and they are tough habits to break, but I do try.

I am a true believer that my flaws are lessons I learn from, but not everything about me is moody, depressing, and bitchy. I am the type of person who doesn’t like to see people hurt. Even if I’ve only met you once or only met you online and you seem sad I always tell people to talk to me if they need someone, and I truly mean it from the bottom of my heart. When I made a decent amount of money I was the type to help friends and family. My thoughts are “what’s mine is yours”. I tried to help the homeless when I could and I wish I had the means to still do so. I don’t like to see people without. I try to take tragic events and make people laugh about it. That may not make the hardship go away but at least with a joke or two I can take your mind off it. I never forget people who help me. For instance, when I got kicked out of my place a few years ago a co-worker I wasn’t really close with opened her home to me. If (WHEN) I win the lottery or Publisher’s Clearing House I will give her a large amount of money because she didn’t have to help me at all, but I am more than grateful that she did. I am happy when I see really talented friends or followers of mine making moves and I’m more than happy to push them to get there. Even if it’s just a share, retweet, or reblog I like doing my part and it makes me proud to be able to say “I know this person, they are great, and you should think they’re great too.” I just kinda wish most people did that for me as well. Even though the past few years have given me a beating some days I just sit and smile because I’ve made it this far.

I’m not a good person nor am I bad. All I can do is take life’s lessons and learn from them. I can only try to mold myself into a better person. I can only strive to be the person I want to be. For now I’m just Asia and I’m okay with that.

-Asia Aneka Anderson

Tragic Crush Tales #2

When I was a freshman in high school there was this guy who was absolutely gorgeous. G was this sexy chocolate dude, who seemed sweet, his family was religious, and he had an amazing voice. We were in choir together. We didn’t talk TOO much, but he was always nice when we did. He was very easy going and I have always been very shy. Somehow my best friend got his number and we would call him often, giggling like 14 year old girls usually do when you talk to the cute boy in class. One day after school I decided to stay behind with my best friend and roam around our new school. We watched the boys practice basketball, bugged a few of our favorite teachers, and we came across G roaming the halls. As soon as we saw him my friend pushed me towards him and bolted to “give us time alone to flirt” cause she knew I wouldn’t do without a metaphorical, or in this case, physical push. We only chatted for a few minutes and before I knew it he pulled me off into this little nook and pushed me up against the wall. He clawed at me, trying to lift up my shirt. I tried to pull away from him and told him to stop, but he wouldn’t. Finally by the time I said “No” for the 5th time and kept struggling, he let me go.

Sidebar: To people who think when girls are assaulted or raped it must be because they were dressed provocatively, I was in a big baggy Tweety Bird shirt with those huge skater men’s jeans that were popular in the late 90s/early 2000s which were written and drawn all over by me and my friends. No cleavage or skin tight pants. I was in men’s clothes. So stop it with the victim blaming that it must be how the girl is dressed. K? K.

Well once I got away from him I ran to find my friend and told her we had to leave immediately. On the walk home I told her what had happened and that I didn’t know what to do because I didn’t want people to make a big deal of it. The next day I told a few friends of mine and my guy best friend who wanted to kill him by that point. One friend I told looked at me strange when I told her and she confessed she had the same run in with him too. Once she found out he did it to someone else she pressured me that we both had to tell someone before it happened again. It took me a few days to tell my parents and when I did my dad showed up at the school mad as hell. There was a meeting between him, both our parents, and me, where his mom, in so many words, said I was asking for it because I liked him and called him a few times. After the meeting was over his dad pulled my dad aside to apologize and to tell him that he completely believed everything I said. I thought it was funny that his dad understood the pain I was going through, but his mom, another woman, wanted to point the finger. As time went on he showed up to school less and less. After I told my story I think one or two other girls came forward which ruined his image as a good christian boy, I guess. I’m not sure if he ever graduated or dropped out altogether because by sophomore year he was never seen again.
Years later I realized that possibly this one person had an effect on my dating life for years. After this happened I stopped dating black men altogether. I don’t know if it was because of this, but I do know for a fact that’s when it stopped. I even stopped finding black men attractive at that point. I had to sit back and change my whole thought process when it came to men and dating. Without even knowing I let his actions influence me and I knew I couldn’t do it any longer. I don’t know what he’s doing with his life now and don’t care. Last I saw him was about 6 years later. There was a competition at our local mall for American Idol and I went to try out. I saw him there scoping out the high school girls at the mall. Once a perv, always a perv, I guess.

-Asia Aneka Anderson, 2014(c)

Tragic Crush Tales #1

        Crush D was kind of a complicated situation. He was my manager. It wasn’t as awkward as you would think. We were the same age, he was covered in tattoos, a sneaker head, etc. So he wasn’t this stuck up bent out of shape slave driver that comes to mind when you think “boss”. He was hella cool and flirtatious and he helped me out a lot when it came to giving me more hours. So I was more drawn to his personality, as well as most other girls that worked with us. Everyone was in love with this dude.
        Around Christmastime one year most of us decided to head to a popular club to celebrate the holidays and he kept asking me that whole week if I was going. For me it wasn’t really worth it because I lived pretty far and the bus that would take me home stopped running at 12:30am and I didn’t want to be that party pooper who had to leave after about an hour. That didn’t keep him from asking me so I started to reply with “I’ll go if you drop me off at home so I don’t have to catch the bus.” He’d never reply back he’d just laugh and go back to work. Well I ended up going anyways and decided I’d either see if he could take me home or try to crash with someone else. We partied the whole night and I got drunk enough by the end of it to tell him how I felt. I just went up to him and said “You know I like you, right?” and  all he said was “Ok.” and smiled. The next morning I got to work hungover as hell. I hadn’t even been there that long until people who, weren’t even at the club or left early, started coming up to me and asking me “Did you ask D to go home with you?” I was entirely too hungover for the rumor mill that morning. “No. I just asked him to take me home since he kept bugging me to go. I didn’t want to be stranded with nowhere to go unless I couldn’t crash at anyone’s place.” I was so confused because I’d made it clear to him that I just needed a ride, not a ride and *wink wink*. “Well, he’s telling people that you asked him to come to your apartment.” I was so pissed off. Here’s someone that, yeah I had a crush on, but I also respected now he’s going around and spreading rumors that I asked him to come to my place. Drunk or not I know I wouldn’t have said it because my apartment looked like a frat lived there; clothes, pizza boxes, and beer bottles everywhere, not to mention I had an air mattress that was half deflated. Not exactly a place you ask someone to come back to for a fuck session. At that moment not only did my crush on him end but so did my respect for him. I was not that kind of girl and to have someone I, and everyone else, respected start a rumor like that hurt. I was also hurt because when it comes to crushes I’m terrified (more than what’s considered normal) to tell the person. In my life there’s been only about 3 or 4 people I got up the nerve to say something and this time backfired big time. The rumor went away by the end of the following week, but it’s something I’ll always remember and I haven’t told anyone I’ve liked them since. I’ll just keep that to myself or let my body language do all the talking.

-Asia Aneka Anderson, 2014(c)

Love Is Simple

From first glance I knew it was love.
Nothing existed in this world but us.
My past heartbreaks you erased.
To love you is simple.
Nothing can break the bond we share.
This love is eternal.
A “til death do us part” kind of love.
I can’t think of anything simpler than loving you.
My days are better with your love.
I had lost hope until I felt the kind of love only you can give.
A love that can never be replaced.
Finding that type of love is rare.
I can get used to the smile you put on my face.
My heart is aflutter from this simple love.
Floating on a cloud of utter happiness.
What we have is as real as it gets.
I love you.
It’s that simple.

-Asia Aneka Anderson
Tumblr: AsiaWrites

Tragic Boyfriend Tales #3

Boyfriend J was a train wreck that I kept reliving. We were absolute best friends in high school. To say that I was in love with this dude from day one would be an understatement, but we never dated while in school. We did date after we graduated but he soon dived into drugs and I was busy living college life so we eventually drifted apart. We would sometimes go years without talking then suddenly he’d call or message me out of the blue and it would be like we were 15 again and I’d fall hard all over again. I was truly convinced he was my soulmate and that one day he’s see it too. We again lost contact when I moved out of state. On his birthday, August of 2011, I wished him a happy birthday on FB like most people do. Out of nowhere he called me that night and we talked for hours. I turned into a teenager like I  always do and in a instant was ready to turn my life upside down and move back home just for him. That’s how much of a grip he had on me. I settled on just coming home to hang with him on my birthday October of that year. We met up, it was great, and we decided to give a relationship a go… again. We talked all the time to make the long distance thing work and I thought we were going strong. Well come February of 2012 low and behold I log into FB and in my newsfeed were some pics he was tagged in with another girl who referred to him as her boyfriend. Needless to say I was hurt. I still held out hope that this was my soulmate, I was more than prepared to leave my life in Chicago to move back to Ohio for him, AND I had recently paid his phone bill (It’s almost 2015 and I have yet to see that money btw). I of course called him out on it. J gave me the dumbest, rudest, yet cleverest (because it was so out of left field) excuse known to man. He told me that he cheated on me because, and I quote, “I think I have multiple personality disorder.” I. Shit. You. Not. I told him that I had known him for 14 years and if he had any other personalities then all of those fuckers should know me by now. I was heartbroken. I knew at that moment I had to block him from everything because even to this day if he were to start talking to me I’d probably stupidly fall into his grasp again. I guess everybody has that ONE person that they know is bad for them but can’t help it. That’s what J is for me. I don’t have to worry about karma hitting him because it hit him often before the last time he dated. His gf that he left me for the first time tricked him into thinking the 3 kids she had while they were together are his (the first one definitely isn’t his), but two of them are iffy cause she cheated a lot. I’m guessing she has multiple personality disorder too.
-Asia Aneka Anderson

My Old Friend

When everyone leaves there’s always one friend who will always be there. Too bad it’s the one friend I’d love to shake. Depression has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. As I get older my cloud gets bigger and bigger. It’s almost as if my depression is aging with me, growing bitter and old. My depression gives zero fucks as to when it hits me. It’s only mission is to make me feel worthless, hopeless, trapped, angry, overwhelmed, unloved, and like trash. I’m not sure if it’s because I’ve gotten older that it has gotten worse or because I have no distraction. I have no friends, no job, and no relationship. With the absence of all these things it’s a vicious cycle. I’m already depressed, I have none of the wants and needs in life which makes me more depressed which leads me to not pursing said wants and needs in life which makes me sink into a deeper depression. Once I can get the slight motivation to go after something some fear creeps into my mind and I remind myself that I’m not worthy of these things. It never stops. When I have too much time to sit and think I get trapped in my mind and that’s when the suicidal thoughts seep in. I recently found the perfect way to describe how it hits me. It’s like a tsunami. One of the first warning signs of a tsunami is that the ocean recedes rapidly from the shore then moments later is when you see the huge waves coming. That’s how it feels. I feel like I’m on the beach where everything is still and quiet then all of a sudden my mind gets too quiet. Out of nowhere you see this huge wave of emotion, but I can’t move. I just brace myself. When the wave hits I’m struggling for dear life to get to the surface, but I’m submerged. I eventually make it to the surface, but not before I feel completely beaten and bruised. I’m used to these feelings even though on some occasions the thoughts scare me. I really wish there was a reason for these emotional tsunamis. Most of the time nothing triggers them. It just happens out of the blue. I tell myself that I would understand it better if there was a trigger. I’m always hoping that one day I’ll see the light at the end of the tunnel. I think that’s the one and only thing that keeps me alive, is hoping that brighter day is somewhere near.

-Asia Aneka Anderson

Where You Begin And I End

I want to know all about you
Let’s have deep conversation at midnight under the stars
What makes you tick?
What makes you happy?
What turns you on?
What do you dream?
What are your failures?
I want to know everything
To be close to you
To be the one who understands you
To know how you think
That’s all I want
I want you to know me
My darkest secrets
My passion
My quirks
Us as best friends and lovers
Completing each others sentences
Knowing what the other is thinking with just one glance
No judgment towards each other
Just love
Just understanding
Just happiness
That’s all I’ve ever wanted.

-Asia Aneka Anderson
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Pretty For a Black Girl

The topic I’m about to go into has affected me my entire life, but I have never fully opened my eyes to it until the impact it’s had on me recently. Now every time I post something like this I try to make a little disclaimer that I’m in no way an expert I just come from my heart and how I see things. I know with this particular topic affects each person differently. For some it’s a harder subject and are more passionate about it and for others they may be blind to it like I probably was.
I’m going to give a little background on myself  before I dive into how colorism pretty much slapped me in the face this year (and probably has  several times along the way) especially when it comes to the opposite sex.
Anyone who knows me knows that I identify with anything nerdy, fangirl, rock, and pretty much anything stereotypically labeled as “white girl behavior” (not my words) so naturally when it came to dating I gravitated to white men. I just had more in common with them because of my interests and black men didn’t really want me unless it was on a physical level. I won’t go into my whole dating history because I’ve touched on that in past posts and will probably refer to it in the future. When I moved to Chicago in 2008 my mind exploded. I was 25 at the time and in all my life I had never come across more than two or three black people who were like me. Through these artsy kids at Columbia College in Chicago I became introduced to artists like Kid Cudi, Childish Gambino, etc and my eyes opened even further that more people like me existed and I felt at home. Even though I was surrounded by all these hipster black kids (blipsters) I felt inadequate. I didn’t feel like I could compare. I went from feeling inadequate to just plain embarrassed. Here I am at 25 and in my adult life I’d never had a relationship with a black man. So when I should I have been opening up to these people who were just like me I sort of pulled back even further for fear of making a fool of myself in a relationship. Hell there’s one guy that I’m 90% sure could’ve been the one, but my fears made me friendzone him almost immediately (still kicking myself on that one). Don’t ask me why I had/have these fears, but they’re there and are very real.
By December 2012 I was back in Dayton and things had changed a bit here as far as culture goes or perhaps I see things differently, but it will never be on Chicago’s level. Now let’s fast forward to 2014. I flipped like a light switch is how I would explain it. I can only see myself with a black man. It’s not saying that I would never date outside my race again, because the color of someone’s skin is not a requirement for me when it comes to a soulmate. I’m not sure if it’s because there’s been so much death when it comes to black men, for instance this summer started off with Eric Garner, then my 16 year old cousin was murdered, then Michael Brown, and then John Crawford among a long list of others. I felt like I had been putting black men off  to the side and it was for some stupid fear that was all in my head. I’m mad at myself that I hadn’t been showing my black men love because of that, but I do know that when I look at my future I see a black man.
I’ve taken to social media (mainly Twitter) and various dating sites to find a potential mate or at least just to put myself out there. As a member of Match for several years I hardly get any messages at all and when I do it’s always a creepy dude in their 50s (ugh), but when I joined Black People Meet I probably got 20 messages the first day. I found one that really caught my eye (and of course he’s in Chicago) and we started (still are) talking. Through him I heard the term “redbones” for the first time. I was offended at first because it sounds like a derogatory term for a Native American. From a friend I learned it pretty much meant “light skinned woman” and depends on who you talk to, most people refer to biracial women as “redbones”. The definition didn’t make me any less offended because I see all black people as black and we all come in various beautiful shades. To top it off I never saw myself as “light skinned” and had never been looked at as such. I was mostly put off since there’s a stereotype that lighter women are extremely stuck up. Now we move to Twitter. I  started by following a few very attractive men with a lot of followers and suddenly within a month or so I go from 680 followers to over 1,100 and most of them men. I’ll admit it boosted my ego, then it quickly deflated when I would look at some of these profiles and notice these men doing one of if not all three of these things: 1. All of their #wcw’s, retweets, headers, or overall profiles were full of girls who were light skinned, white, or Latina women with hair down to their butts, 2. Saying they only like “snow bunnies” (white girls) and that black women “ain’t shit”, or 3. Completely ragging on dark skin girls and saying how ugly they are and other awful things. I realized they weren’t interested in anything I had to say (because if I mostly tweet about Doctor Who, Libra stuff, and live tweet shows we obviously had nothing in common), it was mainly my skin tone that appealed to them. When I had several guys mention to me that pretty much what was beautiful about me was my skin color I made a post on FB about how much this shallowness irritated me. I was surprised at the girls who commented and felt like I wasn’t appreciating who I was. The point of my post was if a man tells me he  thinks I’m pretty and the #1 or only thing he says that contributes to said beauty is my complexion then what that tells me is that if I was darker I wouldn’t be considered attractive.
It saddens me because these men most likely don’t get where this mindset comes from. In the days of slavery it’s common knowledge that the darker slaves stayed in the field and the lighter ones were allowed inside. To see other black people apply this logic to their own in this day and age boggles my mind. It breaks my heart when you see absolutely gorgeous dark skinned women who are put down solely on the color of their skin. Netflix recently added the documentary Dark Girls which covers this very topic. After watching this it’s upsetting to know that women are bleaching their skin, straightening their hair, and other extremes to fit this European idea of beauty. We have almost totally abandoned everything that makes us unique and closer to our heritage. I have no idea what has happened to the last few generations, but it’s puzzling to see that in the 70s we were so unified and now we’re back to this horrible divide. I know this beauty standard is shoved down our throats by the media and sometimes from family. Why we haven’t realized that negativity like this is put out there to make us feel bad about ourselves and further divide us is beyond me. Another group of people at fault for colorism is rappers. Lil Wayne made a controversial statement about not liking dark skinned girls and how they’re not pretty, but he’s not the first nor will he be the last to make such a statement. In most rap videos the love interest or random video girls are almost always of a lighter complexion or even Latina. They put out the message that beauty is a lighter skinned woman with long flowing curly hair, a small waist, and a big ass and if you don’t have that then you’re not beautiful. Another rapper notorious for this is Kanye West. A lot of people were upset with the original cover of his “Yeezus” album because of the supposed satanic imagery, but some black women were upset for another reason. He has two white women draped over him and there’s a black woman on the ground with glaring red eyes and a serpent tongue (the white women have red eyes too, but you have to really zoom in to see it). There’s also the rumors, almost from day one, of his obsession with white women and believing that in order to be successful you have to date white or at least close to it (e.g. Kim). It’s said in jest but there’s the saying “Behind every successful black man is a white woman.” We laugh about it, but it’s truly sad for some to believe that in order to make it to the big time this is what it takes.
Because of colorism this is why black women were so overjoyed when Lupita Nyong’o came onto the scene. Here was this absolutely gorgeous, humble, talented, strong dark skinned woman and we cheered and hoped that black people with this light skin vs. dark skin mentality would put it to rest, but it didn’t pan out like we hoped it would. Most were happy to finally see Hollywood fawning over a dark skinned woman, but then black men came in with their ignorant memes and cruel words. Even with her undeniable beauty and grace some black men drug her through dirt.
When it comes down to being confronted by the police, being followed in stores, stop and frisk, and other outrageous prejudice acts we’re all labeled as black no matter what shade we are. If you feel like a cop pulls you over unjustly they’re not going to check what shade you are and use the paper bag test on you. You’re black. Plain and simple. Why is it only us that put ourselves into categories? We’re all in this struggle together. We’ve come a long way, yes, but we have so much further to go and I feel the reason it’s taking longer and isn’t taken as seriously as it should be is because of the friction we cause amongst each other. When the black is beautiful movement came around it wasn’t “Black is beautiful… except you. You’re way too dark.” It meant all shades of black. It was meant for ALL black people to embrace themselves from the lightest of the light to the darkest of the dark. We’re all beautiful.
-Asia Aneka Anderson

Tragic Boyfriend Tales #2

        Boyfriend M and I started dating my junior year of high school. He was a senior. We actually started out as best friends and I figured since I knew he liked me then we could take it to the next step. Fast forward to the summer of that year. Summers were special to me because my little cousin, who was like a sister to me, came up to Ohio from Tennessee every summer. She was about 11 at the time and I was probably 17, but she was my absolute best friend. I told M this and that most of my summer would most likely be spent with her seeing as we only see each other three months out of the year. He was okay at first because I think he thought I was understating what I said.
        I brought her to a few events with friends, but we didn’t do too much with M because I could tell my cousin didn’t like him. Being the jealous type that he was he started calling me nonstop. One night when my cousin was sleeping over he called and started saying stupid things like “Is she there again?!” and “You care about her more than me.”… But of course. She was the only person in my family that understood me. He’d also say things like “Don’t you have other people who can watch her?!” Yes. But she’d rather hang with me. M took every chance he could to call me every name in the book from “stupid” to “bitch” to let it be known that he was my boyfriend and no one, not even family, should come before him. He was very aggressive about it and made it very clear that he hated my 11 year old cousin because we hung out a lot. Tiny back story: My cousin and I are very close because 1. we’re both Libras (birthdays are exactly 14 days apart) so almost everything about us from style to humor was the same and 2. when she was 3 her mom passed away from cancer. From the moment she was a baby I felt the need to look out for her. Now back to M. I explained all this to him and he proceeded to compare my motherless cousin to his father who had walked out on him at a young age BUT had recently reentered his life. By the time this phone conversation happened I was on my way out of the relationship which is why I stayed pretty calm despite the nasty things he said, but when he started talking about her mom it took me from 0 to 100. He said “So what if her mom’s dead? It’s probably better she didn’t know her.” The he continued to go on about his sob story about his father. I explained to him that it sucked his dad left, but he was trying to fix a wrong and he has access to tell his father how he feels and that he could pick up a phone to call his dad at any time. My cousin didn’t have that luxury. His response “She can talk to her. She can go to her grave.” I was beyond done with the relationship, friendship, and any other ship by that point. My cousin is yelling at him in the background and I’m yelling at him to never talk to me again and that it was over. In true abusive bf fashion M apologized profusely. Nope. Sorry. Not gonna fall for it. Saying hurtful things about me is one thing, but about my cousin, who was my world, was not going to happen. He tried to call a few times after that, but surprisingly it didn’t take him long to catch on.
        Fast forward about 4 or 5 years later. I get a call on my home phone from a girl. She said “I’m sorry to call you, but do you know M?” “Yes,” I told her. “You dated, right?” I was skeptical because I didn’t know who she was and how in the hell she had my parents number. She then told me who she was. She was M’s current gf and baby mama. She asked me if M had ever hit me. “Oh hell no. He knew better than that. He wouldn’t make it out alive if he even raised his hand.” She went on to tell me that he had hit her and that he would often call her names. I assume that day she stood up for herself and told him to stop yelling at her and he responded that she wasn’t the only one he talked to that way and if she wanted proof she could call me. “It was weird cause he gave me your number off the top of his head. He didn’t have to look it up.” Half a decade later and this dude still had my number memorized. Creepy. I admitted to her that he mouthed off a lot, but it never got physical. I tried to give her advice that even though I didn’t know her she didn’t deserve that. “No one deserves that. I know how he gets, how territorial and jealous he is. You’re the mother of his kid. Don’t put yourself through that and expose your daughter to that. He’s not worth it and it looks like he’s probably not going to change since he hasn’t since high school.” I’m not sure if she really listened to me. I hope she did. As for M somehow we’re FB friends, but I don’t talk to him and he doesn’t talk to me. I do hate that for several years after him I refused to date overweight men. I had it in my mind that heavy set men equals insecurity which leads to jealousy and controlling. It took me years to get over that because of this chump. More than that I can’t believe I lost my virginity to that loser. Ugh.

-Asia Aneka Anderson, 2014(c)