AfroerotiK

Erotic provocateur, racially-influenced humanist, relentless champion for the oppressed, and facilitator for social change, Scottie Lowe is the brain child, creative genius and the blood, sweat, and tears behind AfroerotiK. Intended to be part academic, part educational, and part sensual, she, yes SHE gave birth to the website to provide people of African descent a place to escape the narrow-mined, stereotypical, limiting and oft-times degrading beliefs that abound about our sexuality. No, not all Black men are driven by lust by white flesh or to create babies and walk away. No, not all Black women are promiscuous welfare queens. And as hard as it may be to believe, no, not all gay Black men are feminine, down low, or HIV positive. Scottie is putting everything on the table to discuss, debate, and dismantle stereotypes in a healthy exchange of ideas. She hopes to provide a more holistic, informed, and enlightened discussion of Black sexuality and dreams of helping couples be more open, honest, and adventurous in their relationships.

Saturday, November 19, 2011

Wishing You a Peaceful Journey




I loved Heavy D.  It's taken me almost two weeks to come to terms with his death.  I wrote the following on his Facebook page back in June of 2010. 

For many years, Mr. Myers, you were my imaginary lover.  As I’m sure is very commonplace for you, your celebrity allows people to think they know you intimately.  I am to be counted among that population.  I was attracted initially to your music, to your lyrics.  Like most women, I was attracted to your aura. I didn’t see your size, I saw your energy, your articulation, your intellect.  I wanted to be the somebody that would love you for you . . . You spoke to me in your songs, I felt a connection that I was sure you would feel equally if only we could just have the opportunity to meet.  With each new album, I would listen intently for a sign that you were still available and still searching for me.  When you were on Living Single, I was jealous of Regine, not in the stalker sense, but in that the things your character said were the things that I’d always dreamt you’d say to me.  I wanted to be the woman standing beside you as you ascended to acting stardom. 

After many (many) years of lusting after you, loving you, and longing for you to find me, I gave up my hopes of our spiritual, divine connection.  I realized that I was nothing more than just another star-struck fan with childish fantasies.  Today, I no longer have delusions about our destined love affair but I still have love for you in my heart.  I still hold a place for you as a man I once loved in my imagination.  You made loved to me, we built a life together as divinely connected partners.  I celebrate you and all that you’ve accomplished, for all that you are and who I think you are.  Peace and blessings my dear brotha and all my love. 

I'm not sure he ever read it but I'm glad I was able to speak my truth to him before he passed.

Dwight was the rapper who was far more intellectual than he allowed the public to see.  He was the one who never said anything that was offensive to my feminist sensibilities.  He was the one who loved Black women and it showed. 

I had the opportunity to speak to him on the phone once.  He was a guest on Arsenio Hall and I had seen the show enough to know that guests of the show stayed at the Hotel Nikko.  Well, I picked up the phone and I called.  I left a message on the hotel voicemail that was as AfroerotiK as it could get considering it was a full ten years ago before AfroerotiK was even a tiny thought in my consciousness.  I praised him for his insight and spirit.  I poetically penned something, I have no idea what, that was flattering yet truthful.  I told him that I was infatuated with him, with who he was, with what he stood for.  He called me back the next day.  He kept saying, "Who are you?  How do you know me?"  I explained that I wasn't a stalker, just someone who appreciated and respected his work.  We fell into a comfortable groove and we clicked.  In my perhaps deluded memory, we spoke freely and comfortably like lovers would.   And at the most inopportune moment, my roommate picked up the phone and interrupted the call, yelling at me that he had a very important phone call to make.  I was humiliated and I apologized for the interruption and Dwight said he would call me back.  He never did.  I sort of knew he wouldn't but there was also a part of me that knew that we would meet again and that we would experience that connection again in real life. 

As crazy as it sounds, I know I was meant to meet him and we were meant to share a connection.  That's why it's been so hard for me to acknowledge and accept his death.  For some reason, we never got that chance.  I miss him in a way that doesn't make sense to any rational person. 

Dwight, journey peacefully my love, your impact and presence has shaped us all.  I love you.

No comments: