[A Post From Ms. Mendez]
**Heterosexual, intelligent, self-respecting, respectful, humorous, attractive male readers of this blog:
You need to send us an ambassador...a representative, if you will....pick the best one out of the entire group, send him with a knock-out speech on why we shouldn't all give up on your gender & join the sisterhood. An interpretive dance might also do the trick, but its gotta be hot, and not gay.
I'm pretty sure L-cake would agree with me when I say that we (& some of our friends) are a pair of 'the kind u take home to mama' gals. And I know, I know...you're not quite ready for us yet bc you might be too busy messing around with Ms. Right Now who strangely also almost always happens to be Ms. My Favorite Color's Clear. But seriously- do you think we're going to wait? (The correct answer is no, in case you were wondering.)**
Last summer I came across a poem by Rashidah Ismaili titled Yet Still that pissed me off when I read it, not bc it is not phenomenal, but bc she's right....
I have been encouraged to wait outside the door
to wait in an empty room
to wait for a turn of a knob
to wait for a room to fill (to wait and)
be patient.
I have been encouraged.
I have waited outside the door without word or hope outside
with space for company outside, I have waited.
Inside you have sat (sitting inside) behind a door
(sitting inside) safe from me (outside) where I have waited (tired of waiting)
Your door opens slowly (I am waiting.)
Somehow, this poem makes it painfully clear that we should not be sitting, waiting, wishing for someone to open the door and love us....we have hands too, and the doors are awaiting us.
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