5/24/2026

A quick shoutout to those of you who get my sense of humor, but also know how very serious I am in pretty much everything. I have never wished to be anyone else, not even as a young person, and I will never be without passion, in love, work, or play. 

This is me: dig it, or ditch, but never try to flatten me out for your ego. I don’t want to “fit” inside your little world. I am the Empress of the Universe, now and forever more.

And as my birthday gift to you, here is a poem by the amazing Maria Hamilton Abegunde that was partially inspired by, and dedicated to me:

This poem is for Iya Dr. Anjana Mebane (Meh!Ben)-Cruz, now retired, who was the first “Afra-Amer-Indian” woman to receive a Ph.D. in Anthropology at University of Virginia for her ground-breaking research on people of Native and African American ancestry. 

The poem’s first line is from her, after a conversation we had one day about our current political, social, and historical moment.

When I called her to read the poem as a surprise, she shared with me how her elders – Native American and pan-African – told her as a child she was a Star, and that we, Africans, came from the stars.

 

“(re)VISION: Through Fracture, Focus. Through Vision, Freedom.

Part 1

We have been here before:

The death of Empires that resist

Our Brilliance

​​Beauty

​​​Being

​​​​Black.

Their resistance means

the world will break.

Not because we fight,

Or because we “told you so”.

No, the world will break because 

bit-by-bit even the Dark knows the truth:

The Moon depends on the Sun to be seen.

The death of a Star births new Worlds.

 

Part 2

Yes, it is true: Stars breathe.

They pulsate, gather every molecule 

they can before their final exhale explodes

into helium, carbon, calcium, and iron –

Food for an expanding universe.

 

That starlight in the sky you see

Is already 50,000 years old.

You cannot stop a Star from shining. 

Even after its death, you cannot unsee

A Star’s only purpose: to be free.

 

But, did you know?

Empires are Cannibal Galaxies

Incapable of understanding why Stars 

Do not consume each other. 

Unlike Empires, when Stars die, 

They release all their energy to feed whole worlds.

They gather to witness their own re/birthing 

into something unknown.

As they are becoming they never forget who they are.

 

Part 3

We are the Stars.

We are the light that emanates from their rays

We are the rays that are vibrations

That turn into sound

And we are the sound

That hums life into being.

 

Cannibal Galaxies would rather die

Than admit that they need us, want us,

for how we know what we know.

This scares them.

And, we know that type of fear

Leads to insatiable lust for universes.

 

Empires will never tell us that they regret choosing

Dorian Gray’s Mirror, and that is why they

Gaze at us with such hunger.

Their own image reminds them

That rot begins at the core.

 

Part 4

On the other hand,

“We Who Believe in Freedom”

Have chosen Osun’s Mirror.

And, in the Great Mother’s view we see

This truth: 

We are memory keepers. 

We cannot die.

 

We  know how this story ends.

We have seen the future because we are living it

And because you will live the future 

That is not ours to dream.

Our choices have always been to “Be like Water”.

That is, we choose to love all forms of life

In their changing same

Multi-dimensionalities, textures, and tones.

 

Part 5

How the story could have gone.

Could go still.

Stars fall to Earth 

And decide to stay.

We fall in love with our own magnificence.

 

We love us:

Something in the way we move,

Something in the way our photo-spheres reflect

The truth of who we are:

Imperfect plasmas who survived

Gravitational collapse

And breaches in time and space

That will never be sutured.

 

We love each other so much,

That we agree to never leave each other alone, or empty.

We know that the Cosmos is larger than any galaxy.

And, so we choose, every moment to expand

Until the only thing of us that remains

is Breath

 

Lately, I wonder how I appear to people. It seems that they often see someone I am not, even though I have always been pretty forthright and honest about myself. I’ve never claimed to be easygoing or sweet, although I certainly have my moments. Generous, yes, affectionate, yes. Patient? Absolutely not, though tons better than in the past. Superficial- nah! I go deep or I don’t go at all.

I studied to be a concert pianist and performed at a number of venues. As a kid, I seriously thought I was an incarnation of Ludwig Van Beethoven. My first experience of live opera led to Vissi D’Arte, Vissi D’Amor becoming my motto and guide for life, so can I be dramatic? Yes, at times.

I believe that life is meant to be more full than most people experience, and I don’t mean just travels or romances- I mean depth. We are meant to know ourselves, our connection to Earth and everything and everyone in the natural world, and most importantly, we are meant to feel our feelings and understand what they mean. To balance heart and mind so that you live fully, knowing when to analyze and when to simply feel.

I think this is the only way we can connect deeply with others and the only road to true intimacy and the sublime joy that such connections can bring.

I understand that many people (most Americans?) do not share these beliefs. That most people want the surface waters, with as few ripples as possible, and no chance of drowning. I’ve had a hard enough life to understand that desire, but I know it’s not really possible in this world without walling yourself in, physically and psychologically, and for me, that’s far less appealing than actual death. It’s what an Albanian friend once called “Flat world.” The colour and flavor and nourishment all removed in favor of odorless, uniform pap. It’s a il/delusion that leads not only to constant self-disappointment/dissatisfaction, but the false sense of “deservedness” and a dangerous belief in elitism that leads to systems of favoritism and oppression.

So, given my clarity about who I am and what I’m about, how is it that men seem genuinely surprised when, as Popeye would say- “I yam what what I yam and that’s all what I yam!” That I am comfortable in myself, know and make clear my limits and boundaries. I try never to be deceitful or hurtful, although I sometimes fail with the latter. I openly ask for their boundaries and try to be respectful of them, if I know what they are. It’s interesting to me that although they like to think of themselves as direct and less emotional, many men are unable to answer direct questions, and instead, seethe and become resentful rather than confront or explore the emotions that they do have and communicate honestly with their partner. They don’t understand that they lessen their own humanity by denying the reality that as humans, we are “emotional cucumbers,” as a popular meme described it. Sadly, too few seem to understand that an adherence to performed strength actually weakens the performer.

I am loyal and faithful: the original ride or die woman. I expect the same from a partner. I don’t need fish or other dead animals that gents seem so found of posting. I live in a small city, but we do have markets, and in a pinch, I can do those things, plus also know which plants are edible. I also know how to shear a sheep, spin the wool into yarn and weave it into cloth.

I like jewelry, but need none. At the moment, I’m carrying two mortgages, and although it’s been a burden soon to be shed, I manage and do so without assistance. So while it would be lovely to be with someone who can and would want to make my life materially more comfortable, I don’t need that from a man.

What I do need is to be seen and loved for who I am, not who you wish me to be. I had thirty seven years with a strong man who adored me, was patient with my ridiculousness, and thought I could do absolutely anything. He and my son inspired me to persevere and go beyond my own boundaries. Love inspires.

When there is love, we tend to grow towards each other but without ever forsaking our own sense of self and autonomy. Love makes us want to be our better selves and to make our partners proud as well as happy, but it doesn’t coerce. It accepts our limitations even as it inspires us to go beyond those limits. It’s good damned stuff, and if you’re lucky enough to have or find it, don’t hold back, people: jump in and know that it will safely buoy you as you learn to navigate its depths.

Yet in still, men look at me and see someone who’ll humor their egos (I generally won’t); lie to make myself fit into their world (I definitely won’t); and will concede to them even when I know more: hah! (“It is to laugh!”)

They somehow seem to see a simple minded, sexy, and easily manipulated woman, and I don’t know what that’s about. I accept that it’s some kind of projection-fantasy, but there are better candidates for the role than I, so I don’t understand the anger when I turn out to be exactly who I said I am. Dudes!

I am fiercely introspective and introverted, curmudgeonly, and also charming and downright adorable. I will cook, bake, write poetry, and sing to you, but only when I feel like it or when you need it. We all need special attention at times and I consider it my job to notice, but also encourage you to simply state your needs and desires. The same treatment I expect back from a mate. We take care of each other, with love. We should genuinely enjoy each other’s company. Anything else can only lead to sadness and discontent. Friends and lovers- it’s a real thing that happens, believe me.

So that’s all I have to say about that. I’d’ve thought that at this age, the fellas would understand more and would’ve accepted what women are, but apparently the delusions remain. And that’s a shame, because we are meant to balance each other and enjoy the hell out of each other, heart, body, and soul. Communion, y’all: adageyudi/gadugi.

Today is the official, annual, and original Bird Day on May 4th (established 1894) for conservation, so pick up your binoculars, go quietly to the woods or your back yard or park, and marvel at the beauty and wondrous flight of our avian friends.

I’ll be heading to my local preserve in the afternoon, when the vultures circle so beautifully before doing their sacred work. Maybe I’ll get to see a mocking bird keep a hawk away from her nest, or a robin playing games with a squirrel. Or maybe it’ll be the usual array of crows laughing and making fun of everything I do. All sightings are joyously welcome to me and close to my heart.

Git on out there, people: they are kin.❤️