Ms_Dyonamite все записи автора

Келис  всё ещё записывает новый альбом и посещает кулинарную школу.Так же Келисведёт колонку в Журнале MISSBEHAVE. Вот несколько её статей.

KELIS ON…GUYS STYLE

I’m from Harlem. I remember being in high school and hopping on the 2 or 3 train or maybe the A and D and seeing all the leathers, sheepskins, colors; those simple first things that attract you to a man. The way he looks, his style, his swagger. I’m putting a spotlight on Harlem because that’s my home but no one is exempt. The long, and I mean extra long, white or God forbid, that horrifying powder-pink tee was an abomination. But I bring all this up to say, actually to segue into, what I’m seriously over—The Chain Gang. 

There are the fools, rappers, athletes, correctional facility officers, bus drivers, bank tellers, and the like who think that a cloudy tinfoil quality chain down to their belt buckle is supposed to convince us and themselves that they’re “doin It”. I mean, guys who don’t have jobs feel the need to spend their 3K on a long aluminum chain (‘cause for the price they most likely paid, it is NOT platinum no matter what they were told) when they should be putting it towards a mortgage. Basically men, in a nutshell, should not wear jewelry unless they’re gay and/or Elton John. Men should learn to be men. A fabulous watch, a great pinky ring works. A coffee table, the tinsel off last year’s tired-ass Christmas tree does not. Maybe some grown men adore adornments but it’s just gotten out of control. Quite honestly, perhaps artists can get away with it ’cause they’re entertainers but even they have gone too far. 

People made a huge deal—like some big extravaganza—when artists (who are essentially irrelevant in the larger scheme of things when it comes to fashion) because they decide to wear Bozo the Clown-colored shirts. This is not what grown men should look like. Before them, the men wore tailored shirts, hard-bottomed shoes, and pocket watches. Now I understand we are in a different era but I’m sick of guys only wearing Air Force Ones, jeans, and button downs proclaiming some newfound grown man-ness. 

Please, actually grow up, all of you. Stop buying cheap jewelry, shopping at Up Against the Wall and come with it. Dressing properly and being a man is not about money. You should work for a future so success and money are relevant here but any man with a real job does not need a Jesus head made of tinsel to prove it. Man up boys. 

KELIS ON…CHILD REARING

So I’ve been thinking about kids lately. Not because I’m ready to have any but maybe it’s just my age. Or maybe it’s the not so subliminal messages my mother has been dropping lately. She’s actually started purchasing things like mini picture frames with cute little post-its on them that read “baby” and she’s begun to strategically leave children’s books around my house.

Actually, the older I’ve gotten the clearer I am that I’m not particularly fond of kids. Mainly because they belong to other people and are usually just shrunken replicas of their larger annoying parents. When I was a teenager, I envisioned getting married, having a bushel of munchkins and living a life something like that ridiculous late ’80s sitcom “Just the Ten of Us.” Ignorance is bliss. Just as attempting to have lunch with a girlfriend and her overzealous badly-behaved, 3-year-old might be the best form of birth control yet. There you go Planned Parenthood that’s your angle. Better yet, spend an entire weekend with a family who has teenagers. Scared straight. Okay harsh, maybe but I can’t help but think that if more people were as concerned (or terrified) as I am, there would be a lot more people prepared and suited for parenthood. And a lot less unruly kids kicking the back of my seat on the redeye from LAX to JFK (which if you ask me is a win/win situation).

Bare with me here, I’m venting because I feel the need to get this out of my system so that I actually have a fighting chance of being a good mother and not completely ruining some undeserving person’s life. People assume that because God gave us all the equipment that we should all go for the gusto and procreate. People also assume we automatically have these maternal instincts ingrained in us and that we are capable and have enough common sense to selflessly and properly rear someone and prepare them for the world.

We all have seen some tragic parenting hell. Some should just never be allowed to have kids. I mean, a barber needs a license to cut hair legally, even my nail lady had to take a course and pass to do my fill-ins. Yet Jane and Jerome are bumpin’ uglies all over the universe without a care in the world. I am not delusional, (or crazy for that matter) I’m certain there really isn’t a way to filter or regulate something like this. But I just get to wondering—why do people assume that once you even have a child that you’re all gonna get along? So many families are estranged ’cause they simply don’t like each other. Scary stuff.

Contrary to how I might’ve sounded up to this point, I truly believe that everything has a flipside. Getting pregnant, giving birth and raising a family is a glorious blessing. No matter how frightful it may seem to me at the moment. Until the day comes (and Lord willing it will), you can catch me biding my time at none other than the “no children permitted” pools, restaurants, spas, and whatever other savory spots are left for those of us on birth control. Good riddens and God bless America!

KELIS ON…HOES & HOUSEWIVES

On a lazy Sunday I was flipping through the channels and stopped on Discovery. I was watching what I thought was a show about some cattle herder in Africa. He was talking to his family, friends and elders about being short something like seventy cows. I kept thinking, “wow this is intense. This guy needs more cows.” Then a baby-faced beauty came into frame and it was all clear. The young man was short on cows for his dowry to marry this woman. Her parents and elders wanted to make sure he would care and provide for her, so the young man was doing whatever it took. I guess he doesn’t listen to “Gold Digger” on the radio. I started to think about other cultures like India and the caste system. A man’s social status and finances are scrutinized when being considered for an arranged marriage. In European history, matrimoney combined wealth and land, made heirs, and started and stopped wars. For centuries, people around the world have married for power, wealth, and convenience. It was a transaction of resources, in many instances love came after.
An author named Leslie Bennetts wrote a book titled The Feminine Mistake about educated career women giving up their “lives” to raise families and keep households. I think the phenomenon is interesting. If we expect financial security from our husbands, is it then acceptable for wives to lose our selves in marriage and family? Can a woman actually have it all, or is that fighting against a predestined natural imperative? I hear women, real working women, who are smart and great say there are no good men left. In many instances decent, successful men have made their beds and now have to lie in them, (usually with some hoe). Successful women, who aren’t necessarily willing to be strictly a hoe or a housewife, are being lost in the shuffle, while (admittedly quite skilled) strippers are clapping their asses for ballers or posers who make it rain with a few singles.
Listen, power to the hoe. She can have them for all I care. They aren’t our concern. But pushing all skanks and groupies aside, can a real man tell the difference between a hoe and a good woman? Does he know what to look for? Does he even care to see a difference? And conversely, is it reasonable for a woman to only want a man who’s got his cows together? I mean, it is dictated by history that she has the right to expect that from her man. I’m as forward thinking a modern female as it gets. I’ve asked a bunch of questions, so here’s my take—leave the gold digging for the chickens and birds. Expect more than money ladies. A man and woman should be partners. In business, partners play different roles equally important to the success of that business. Life and marriage are no different. So for all the jaded negroes Kanye spoke for, I suggest you make a T-shirt ladies. Maybe the slogan could read something like: “Dig this: I Got Your Gold Right Here!”

KELIS ON…NAME CALLING

People who know me know I have never been “Politically Correct.” I don’t try to be because the phrase itself is an oxymoron. We use words to inflict harm, express disdain, or compliment each other and we use certain terms to describe people and their character. I called my girlfriend a WASPy Yuppie the other day. She was appalled. I love her and I didn’t mean to insult her but I was aiming for accuracy and that’s how she was behaving. She might feel slighted but maybe it’s who she’s become. What I’m trying to say is, who cares about what’s “correct”? I’m sick of people pretending these sentiments aren’t included in the private and very honest conversations they have with their spouses, family, and friends.It’s time for some honesty about name-calling.

I wish Bush would just come out and say it—“I hate sand niggers.” How refreshing would that be? It would likely be the most concise, consistent, and true statement he could come up with. Because it’s probably how he REALLY feels. And he’d probably pronounce it with the “er,” too. All these rights, in these United States, but you don’t get to say much.Gimme a break.

If I’ve learned anything from life, it’s that people don’t have to be racist or prejudiced to prefer their own. Unless you got some weird self-hating issues most people do prefer their own. And there are funny little words that go along with this inclination. Just because you don’t say the words doesn’t doesn’t make it less true that you ascribe to these thoughts. If everyone just said what they thought, maybe we could have move on, get past it all and really be free. Take the word nigger. In Webster’s dictionary it says, “disparaging and offensive, a black person, dark skinned people, second class citizen.” We know it’s an American word that was used by whites for hundreds of years. Yet ‘nigga’ within the black community means brother, homey, man. It morphed and was turned into something else. I don’t know any white people that call themselves ‘honkies’, but that word is also in the dictionary along with cracker. What’s the big deal?

What’s in a name? Some people will answer “everything”, but I’m talking about derogatory names, slang, racial slurs. How much power does a word or a name possess? Does a person shape the name or the other way around? My name is half of my father’s and half of my mothers. All my life I thought it was so funny that my physical features along with personality are so clearly divided in two.

On the flip side, why is no one offended or upset when Bill Maher goes on his racist tirades, but when Michael Richards exposes his true feelings, the whole country is in a temporary uproar? Is it justified that Don Imus got fired or was the punishment excessive? When Eddie Murphy or Paul Mooney make it comedy, is it okay then? How about if a straight man calls another straight man ‘faggot’? Is it only offensive if the man is gay? Can girls say ‘faggot’? What if that girl was a pre-op transgender transitioning into a gay man? Is it kosher then?The thing about making name calling so damn sensitive is you start developing too many rules.Like I said, I don’t give a f*ck about political correctness. Feel free. Join me.

KELIS ON…FEMINISM

Feminism: Noun; Belief in the social, police and economic equality of the sexes.

So when did it become such a dirty word? I’ll tell ya, every interview I do I’m asked, “So do you consider yourself a feminist?” like the word’s racist or fascist or communist. Sounds so evil. I had to think about it the first time I was asked. What really struck me was, why the hell is this person asking me. At the time I was about 17 or 18 and I felt like I was being attacked by this strange journalist. I replied, “No.” because at the time my understanding of the word brought visions of braless, hairy armpitted, man haters. I wasn’t alone; who put that image in our heads? “I love men,” I proclaimed, “So that can’t be me.” Years later as a woman, I would have to rethink my answer. My husband, can’t stand the topic. He’s cool with strong women, his mother was one; hell, he loves ‘em, as long as it doesn’t affect him and dinnertime.

Most men say they want a strong woman but as long as we don’t get in the way of their success or needs. How many times have you heard about a woman giving up her career to help put her man through school or raise and care for her family? I think that’s wonderful and takes strength, but such strength is often acceptable when the sacrifice is hers. What if that same woman put her goals and career first. Strength doesn’t come up. Words like selfish and irresponsible come up instead. Men and women definitely have different roles, but who calls out the job description? My loving husband says I shouldn’t dwell on such negativity. What the hell is so negative about me thinking, or knowing rather, that I can do anything you can do better than you?

Being a woman in business, we all know working in male-dominant environments is quite a challenge. Particularly as a woman in a position of power. One of my dearest friends is a high level financial analyst. We were out shopping and saw these amazing flats. I told her to get them cause she could wear them to work. She answered matter of factly that she couldn’t because it was hard enough without inviting men she was making deals with to think they could physically or psychologically look down on her. Good gracious! Can’t even wear a cute flat!

When we raise our voice, put our foot down, lay down the law, or refuse, we are branded as difficult, hysterical, emotional, irrational or that our flow is in town. Our counterparts are hailed as assertive, decisive, a real leader. What bull. A man can be overweight, sloppy, a down right mess and be the CEO of any major corporation. While a woman couldn’t get the position as his secretary if she doesn’t dress well and meets the aesthetic criterion. My mom used to always say, “A well dressed woman is a successful woman.” She never lied.

The next question then is how you can be so sexual and maintain you’re a strong woman? Backward hypocrisy. If I were a man, sexuality may not be an ally, but as a woman it’s my friend—something I embrace. Suffice it to say there’s a fine line between smart and slut, but the lines have been drawn, and as a strong smart woman I use my discretion. Men grab their balls and high five each other all day. Life must be real easy as king of the concrete jungle. But I’m a chick who tugs at my metaphoric balls with no penis envy at all. I simply like to take pride in the stuff I know I’m best at and I won’t keep quiet while doing it. Roar.

That being said, girls sometimes have to learn when to just shut up, sit down, and be the strong silent type. In war, there are many tactics. Leaving enough rope out for some of our dimwitted yet lovable counterparts to hang themselves is a pretty fail safe one. Not all men are chauvinistic pigs; just the ones I work with. Nonetheless, let ‘em call us what they will. Call me a feminist. I’ve certainly been called much worse.