I Love

I have an unnatural addiction to all things vanilla. That’s not a metaphor for white men, I just love the flavoring.  I love vanilla scented candles, Good Hope Vanilla Tea, smelling vanilla extract straight from the bottle, I love vanilla. I love to juice mangoes and pineapple in the summer and drink it for breakfast it on my balcony. I love salads with avocado and black olives and home grown, organic tomatoes. I love salsa music with a passion and a dance partner who is taller than me when I’m in heels.  I love going to a jazz club and sitting so close to the bass that I can feel the vibrations in my chest. I love cuddling on the sofa, spooning in bed, finding that perfect place on my lover's chest where I just fit, and waking up with him aroused and rubbing on my butt.  I love listening to the piano being played solo, the first day of spring when I can wear sandals outside, the look of my feet in high heels with clear polish on my toes, taking a hot bath and feeling my body temperature rise, rubbing my head after I just got my hair cut, sucking on a newborn baby’s perfect little toes, herbal tea with honey, pumpkin seed chili, and pear cobbler from Lush Life Café. I love when I sweat and it's that slippery kind of sweat.  I love my grandfather.  I love that he was a civil rights leader and taught me the importance of having integrity. I love that my grandmother gave me the love my mother never could.  I love that I have had the opportunity to help two wonderful loved ones transition peacefully.  I love raspberries, blueberries, cherries, and really juicy peaches and plums. I love the fact that I'm not average. I love organic gardening and making fresh pesto sauce from basil I grew on my porch. I love blasting Lewis Taylor in the car over and over again and singing it at the top of my lungs.  I love being in love and spoiling my partner and knowing that he appreciates it.  I love Cafe 290 on Sunday nights and a decadent picnic basket with gourmet foods. I love throwing dinner parties for friends and using my cloth napkins. I love all my ex's for teaching me how to love and making me a better woman.   I love Law & Order marathons when every episode has Jesse L. Martin, HGTV, documentaries about Black history, and Alvin Aliey’s Revelations make me cry every time I see it.  I adore making love to men with the same skin color as me, when I don’t know where he begins and I end.  I love writing a story and seeing the words come alive on the paper and realizing that I gave birth to transformative words.  I love playing games online that stimulate my brain and learning the words to amazing songs in different languages I don’t speak.  I love having my nipples sucked softly like a baby and the art of Woodrow Nash.  I love drinking coffee with amaretto creamer at night before I go to bed.  I love egg custard snow cones, unagi, learning things most people don’t know, women with thick, wooly, nappy afros and smooth dark skin.  I love late night phone sex with men with poetic hearts and radical minds.  I love the feeling of finishing a creative project, writing in my journal, chilled white wine, bone china, crisp, freshly laundered sheets, smoked salmon, making love in the candlelight, talking dirty during sex, white chocolate, dark chocolate, Stevie Wonder, I love telling people that Earth, Wing & Fire's September was written just for me because my birthday is the 21st night of September.  I love Ledisi's Feeling Orange CD even though it costs an arm and a leg and is more rare than a split atom, musicals from the 60s and 70s, and meditation.  I love conversation with deeply cerebral individuals who appreciate me for me and not my aesthetics and who don't judge me for my politics.  I love when people tell me that something that I've written has helped them, healed them, moved them, aroused them, or given them a new way to think about things.  I love wearing dresses and going out to dinner and knowing that I'm going to go home and make incredible, passionate, sensual, AfroerotiK love.

My Romantic Resume

It's time.  It's time for me to be in a healthy relationship. I'm not getting any younger,  I've done the work on myself to be a great partner, now is the time to manifest the man who can share my life.  

The following is Scottie in a nutshell.  I'm putting myself out there, being open and receptive for getting and sharing a divine love. 


I'm Miss Non-confrontational and Pleasant to be Around.  Most men want a woman who is sweet.  Sweet is for bunnies and women who are emotionally submissive.  I'm not sweet. Granted, I don't like to argue.  I don't have the need to be right.  I don't need to have the last word or prove my point but I’m not complacent and I won’t cater to a man’s inflated ego.  I'm childlike in my awe of things that move me but I’m far from childish. I fly into a rage when I'm lied to but other than that, I'm good to go.

I'm Ms Radical Black Feminist.  I don't hate men, I don't hate white men, I DO hate the privilege that a penis and/or white skin affords some people without merit and I work to dismantle the fallacy of male domination and white supremacy with my words and deeds.  If you don't like the idea of me saying that (white) men have unfair privileges in this society, I'm not the one for you. 

I'm Ms. AfroerotiK.  I write personalized, customized erotic stories for a living.  My life is dedicated to showing African Americans in a healthy sexual light and dismantling the stereotypes of Black women being ghetto hoochies and Black men being thugs and pimps.  I write stories about all facets of Black and interracial sexuality, including individuals in the GBLT community, giving them a voice and an outlet to feel validation and respect.  I'm more open minded about sex than the vast majority of the population.  That being said, I'm not physically sexual with anyone unless I'm in a relationship with them so while I can discuss any kink, fetish, or fantasy under the sun, while I can be as brutally forthcoming and open in my discussions of the specifics of what I like, I’m not going to have sex with anyone unless I am 100% positive that they are committed to me for more than my physicality.

I'm Ms. Flexible who can adapt to most situations and not afraid to decline an offer if it isn't to my particular liking. 

I’m Ms. Straightforward . . . Do I even have to expound?  I don’t play games, I don’t expect a mind reader, I’m not pulling any punches. 

Independent is my middle name.  Actually, it's my confirmation name but let's not get caught up in minutia.  You needn't worry that I'm going to give up my goals, aspirations, and dreams or lose my identity in being your girlfriend because I have more drive, ambition, and pure spunk than most people could even dream of.  While I adore being partnered, and I'm EXCELLENT at being a girlfriend (loving, nurturing, supportive, the whole nine) I am a woman with a mission that can’t be distracted.

I’m Ms. Loyal, faithful, and monogamous to a fault.  When I'm with someone, I only have eyes for him.  If I feel the relationship is not providing me with something I need, I'll address it with hopes of a resolution or end the relationship before I look elsewhere.  I expect the same in return from my partner. 

I’m Ms. No Pressure.  I don’t want a ring, I am not planning on how to get you to marry me, I’m not looking for you to spend every minute of your time with me.  I just want companionship, intimacy, and connection.  Anything more than that is a bonus.  

I’m Ms. Low Maintenance.  I'm considered attractive by some, not so much by others.  My looks, appearance, and wardrobe don't define me.  I am grounded, down to earth, non-pretentious and humble. 

I need someone to remind me that I am a woman in my lonely existence, that I do have value more than my aesthetics.  I want a male friend with whom I can express my fears, doubts, and insecurities without being labeled damaged or imperfect.  I’d love a male voice to tell me goodnight and someone with whom I can share the details of my day.  I’d like to think that I could make life’s journey a little less daunting as I’d like to hope that you might be able to do for me.  Not many men would be open to a woman like me but nothing ventured is nothing gained for sure, right?

Peace and many blessings,

Ms. Trying to stay sane in this crazy mixed-up world. 

Is it a Question of LOVE?

    I was asked to answer the following questions on love because, supposedly, I’m a thinker.  Here are the questions and my responses.

    1.    What is love (to you)?
    Love is a feeling, an emotion, a state of being where you care for someone else’s well-being, you care about their feelings, you want to make them happy, see them happy, you don’t mind sacrificing for them.

    2. What is IN love (to you)?  I don’t differentiate the terms love and in love simply because I don’t think there’s any quantifiable way to define how much one loves another person.  We use the words love for family and friends and people we don’t want to have sex with and we use the words in love for someone to whom we are romantically attracted.  I don’t love the little boy I baby-sit for any more or less than I once loved his father.  Most people would get upset if I were to say that I was in love with a child but my level of emotion, concern, and the depth of my feelings is on par with the love I’ve felt for grown men.  I want to see him smile, I look forward to seeing him, I miss him when he’s not here, I think of things to do for him that will make him happy.  Those are the exact same things I once felt for his father.  Because I have no sexual feelings for him, society says I’m not “in love” with him.  I say society needs to separate romantic love from “other” love because we are so sexually repressed, because we don’t teach people how to love, only what it is to be loved.  I LOVE my sister and I don’t think I’ve seen her more than a half a dozen times in my life.  I still remember the first time I laid eyes on her, she was a grown woman .  The feeling of wanting her to be happy and healthy, of wanting to protect her . . . it still brings tears to my eyes.  I’m in love with her.  My love for her is active and growing and alive.

    3. Have you or anyone you know, mistaken LOVE for IN LOVE?  If the assumption is that being “in love” is somehow real and true and that to only “love” someone means that the love is superficial or doesn’t have as much substance or validity as being “in love” then I reject the terms.  I have fallen in love with men who I’ve later been repulsed by.  I’ve loved men who have not deserved my love.  I’ve loved men who have fooled me into thinking they were someone that they were not.  I love men whom I once cared for deeply but have no romantic feelings for currently.  Love can grow and evolve, the depth of one’s feelings can change and transform.  Love is real.  The baggage we apply to it is what makes it appear false.

    4. Is conditional love natural or can it be inherited? I think conditional love is a manifestation of selfishness.  Conditional love is only loving someone if they love you a certain way, if they only fulfill your needs in a way that is pleasing to you.  That is a creation of a society that teaches people to love themselves, to only look out for number one.  I think we teach our children conditional love by beating them, by withholding love from them when they misbehave, by not showing them healthy examples of love.  I think conditional love is a sickness we’ve inherited from a society that is spiritually bereft.

    5. Why is love so complicated when it suppose to be the most simplest of all acts and feelings?  We live in a society of fear.  We fear that if we love someone and we don’t get that love returned, that we have to hurt them back.  We live in a society that teaches us how to be loved, to enjoy the feelings of someone treating us special but we don’t learn how to make someone else feel special.  Love is complicated because we are taught models of love from our mothers and fathers, who most often were not together, who fought, who didn’t love each other, and who brought a whole host of other emotional issues to the table when they did.  Love is difficult because it leaves us vulnerable and that is scary. Love is difficult because it takes work.  Love is difficult because we fall in love with money and looks and superficial things that have nothing to do with true emotion and feeling.  It’s hard to find love because first we need to love ourselves, and  to do that, we have to take the bandage off our emotional wounds and really heal them and that hurts.

    6. Is 'material' love a bad thing? If yes, then how can we 'de-love' it?   If by material love, you mean love of things, I think that is purely a manifestation of Eurocentrism.  Almost all indigenous, brown people loved the land, they loved their people, and they loved the Creator more than they loved things before the influence of Europeans.  The importance of things, outside trinkets, stuff, money, belongings that give people a false sense of worth seems to stem from the people who think that they can take land, kidnap and kill people, steal possessions as their god-given right.  The only way I can imagine to de-love material things is to see ourselves as truly spiritual beings, the way God intended us to be.  If God is love, then all we are is love.  If love is truth, then material things are the lie.

    7. Is there really such a thing as self-love? (take your time on this one)  I have to wonder why this question was posed as such.  It seems to indicate that self-love is perhaps fictional or delusional.  Self-love is not needing validation from someone or something else, it is holding yourself to a higher standard than others around you would.  Self-love is making sure you don’t put yourself in harmful, dysfunctional situations.  Self-love is very real.  It is knowing yourself, your triggers, your weaknesses, it’s knowing everything about yourself, the good and the bad, and being comfortable in your own skin.

My Beautiful Ex

I was chatting with an ex of mine and he found some images I took of him.  Photographer I'm not.  His obvious assets aside, and it's much larger than it seems in the pictures, I'm awed by the fact that he's brilliant, beautiful, and not at all, not in the least little bit, defined by his outrageously gorgeous and gigantic penis.  He's kind and thoughtful, introspective, generous and just a sweet, wonderful man.  For all the white people who ask me why I love black men, all I have to say is, what's not to love? I'm very proud to say that I love and admire him and I know that he feels the same about me. 

I Am Not Mediocre

I am unique (and nothing less than blessed) in that I have huge numbers of people who like and respect me, even if they don’t agree with everything I say. I try to stay as humble as possible and recognize that those people who like my work, who validate me with compliments and praise, are worthy of my recognition and gratitude. There are times when I couldn’t make it through the day without the kind words and accolades I get from friends and fans alike.

I’m baffled, however, by the number of people who seem to express a hatred, disgust, and venomous rage towards me. By every conceivable measure, I am a nice person. I treat people fairly, with respect, I am kind and considerate, I don’t gossip or backstab. So I am taken aback at those times when people attack me personally, with malicious intent, who try to hurt me, who seem to get some sort of pleasure in saying hurtful things to me.

It’s always my nature to ask myself at those times, when I’m the victim of attack from people, “what did I do wrong, what’s wrong with me?” Intellectually, I have to recognize that there is something inherent in me, something unique, different, and special that makes people uncomfortable with my energy, my aura, my being. It’s precisely because I’m not average, because I am have done the work to evolve, grow, and transform that people find me sooooo offensive. I realize academically that the very people who hate me most, who direct so much energy trying to tear me down and hurt me are the very people who have not done the work to mature or evolve themselves. They would rather I stagnate and wallow where they are, in their complacent, satisfied existence where they don’t question or challenge their worldview or try to grow and evolve. The people who love to wallow in their dysfunction, the ones who have lived their lives rationalizing and justifying their pathologies in order to elevate themselves, in order to make themselves feel good are the ones who HATE me, who feel the need to try to tear me down.

I am different. I see the world differently. I’ve challenged myself to see beyond the mediocre trappings of this society. I’ve redefined what beauty means to me, what masculinity and femininity mean to me. I’ve seen the lies in organized religion and let go of the brainwashing that controls the masses. I work hard to heal the detrimental messages that were forced down my throat about sexuality, relationships, and that have tried to silence my independence. I am HONEST. I speak truth to power. I attack ideas, not people. That offends many people. They hate that I can expose my flaws and shortcomings so easily, so truthfully with the world and they have to hide their true feelings behind a façade of being perfect. My vulnerability and candor makes them angry. They hate me for going against the grain, for not succumbing to the capitalist, materialistic, superficial trappings that hold them captive, by which they measure their worth. Because I can’t be defined by an income amount or a type of car but because I live my life in integrity and in truth, in pursuit of higher goals, they want to do and say whatever they can to hurt me. It seems that they feel better about themselves if they denigrate me.

I am not mediocre, nor will I ever be again. I will not be entertained by Meet the Browns or The Housewives of Any Place. I will not my spend money on any form of entertainment that uses the N word; I do not tolerate the use of the N word in my presence. I do not consider myself a bitch, I’m not aroused by bad boys, I do not want a man with a Hummer or a basketball contract. I do not think Zane is a good writer, in fact, I think she’s horrible and while I have nothing against her personally, I hate what she has done to generations of black girls and women in terms of warping their view of relationships and sexuality. I don’t listen to commercial urban radio with their monotonous, talentless songs and mediocre talk hosts. I do not idolize Oprah or anyone just because they have a big back account. I don’t think my beauty is in my pedicured toes, the length of my hair, or how much of my ass I can show off in my tight jeans. I speak out about racism. I identify the diseased mindsets white people have and black people buy into that perpetuates oppression and bigotry.


I embrace the fact that I’m not average. I accept with graciousness that I have been given the gift of mastery of the written word, insight, and a level of honesty that does touch people. I’m not mediocre and I accept that, I celebrate that. If that means that I have to endure the virulent, bitter attacks of people who wish to tear me down, I will accept their attacks with the understanding that if I weren’t living my life, outside the box, In Loving Color, they wouldn’t be moved to hate me so vehemently.