There was a colony, a paradise set deep in the forest in an unknown land. The colony hosted plentiful, more inviting and majestic than the eye could ever imagine. This was a colony where those who lived there were invited, in this case all women.

The colony hosted exactly 100 women an equal number divided into two colors. So half the women were blue and half of colony green. Though each knew their own color, blue or green, they were forbidden from sharing their color with anyone else. This sharing was strictly forbidden.

They also had a favorite fruit they enjoyed. You could see them enjoying their choice fruit daily.

All could remain in this majestic colony forever under one condition. They must be able to identify when called upon, who also among them was ALL KNOWING. Each night one person of color was removed from the colony under the cast of darkness. One night green, the next blue. She was asked who is ALL KNOWING. If she knew, she was returned to the colony secretly and sworn to total secrecy.

This alternate downsizing continued each night and with equal respect to each side. After awhile others noticed and became frightful. As their tribe dwindled they began to whisper among themselves not knowing the color of the other or perhaps speaking in the presence of ALL KNOWING. Before long there became a build of chaos among them, fear, suspicion, back stabbing, hate. And yes their numbers dwindled until at last there was only one.

There she stood at the edge of the colony in and ALL KNOWING asked how did you know it was me? She said, I studied our collective fruit. I watched how it changed over time as our colony changed and dwindled.

And then I found the one among us who was no respecter of fruit or color. You only wanted our obedience. I knew then I was in the presence of ALL KNOWING. I knew for sure it was you. You never changed. I knew.

I remember vividly the moment I realized my father was not returning home to my family from Vietnam. He was coming back, just not to us, not to me. I was six. Knowing that, internalizing that changed me. I knew from that moment on I never wanted to get married. I wanted to be married.People get married a lot. It takes everything you are made of to be married. Whomever chose me as their bride would have to want to be married too.
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My mother had sent my dad A Dear John Letter. I did not learn that until I was 28, a mere month before my own wedding. Dad wanted me to have a full picture of him. He wanted me to know he never left of his own choosing.
For twenty plus years I had lived believing my dad had divorced me when he and my mother split. It had only increased my resolve, no getting married, only being married mattered to me. I have been married 24 years.
I contribute my early convictions to being married this long. Being married is a million mile distance from getting married. It is the hardest and best thing wrapped in one. Some days love is not enough. That is truth telling. I never want my children to experience a moment of daddy is not coming home.
When my husband proposed to me on his knees he said I only want to do this once. Please don't say yes if you are not in this for forever. It is my promise and acceptance of his only hard ask that keeps me on course during turbulent times. We want the same thing-we want to be married. We want to be married to one another. We became married on Father's Day 1992.

Officially the national mammal of the United States (May 9, 2016). Majestic, a national symbol of our great country. The texture of bison simply superior. Nothing wasted. Lean and tender. Bison, a favorite among the masses. Protected by others, a national treasure. Unrushed, studied and steady. Mostly calm but fiercely protective. When agitated, will charge with an upright tail. Fast, quick-pivot, six foot vertical.  A migrant beast leaving no other left behind. Known to be free and in harmony with nature.     The male bison an undeniable show of strength with an excellent sense of hearing and smelling what is out there beyond its gate. The baby bison- "red dog" who will live to grow its horns.

Bison men are a  band of brothers. A legacy of brave, smart, intentional sorts. A rare clash of decency, integrity and protection enveloped in charm and charisma. A most fine package. Unmistakable stock.  Unbelievable nature. Unforgettable presence.

Bison men at the gate:
Amiri Baraka 1934-1916, Civil Right Activist...Stokely Carmichael 1941-1998, Civil Rights Activist...Douglas Wilder 1931-, Govenor....Anthony Anderson 1970-, Actor...Peter Falk1927-2011, Actor....Billy Eckstine 1914-1993, Trumpet Player...Vernon Jordan Jr. 1935-, Lawyer...Kelly Miller 1863-1939, Mathematician...Chadwick Boseman 1977-, Director....Andrew Young 1932-, US Representative...Hal Jackson 1915-2012, Disc Jockey...John Mercer Langston 1829-1897, US Representative.

Bison men at the gate. A legacy of unbreakable, unshakable excellence. Men that move together, team together. Men who defend what is rightfully theirs, together. As Bison at the gate they stand watch. And they hold the gate open for red dogs and other seasoned Bison like them. One collective vision of purposeful intention. One purpose....that no Bison left behind. That the gate remains open to all.

Bison men at the gate. The finest cut of them all. Superior stock like none other. When you have crossed the path of one, you have crossed paths with greatness.

"It's time to give back" WWW.REVAMPHU.COM

When I competed in my first beauty pageant I was 15 years old. There would be well over a dozen more including the last one at HOWARD UNIVERSITY where I was last crowned Miss School of  Business in 1984. I grew up trying to become a beauty queen.

When I competed in pageants, usually I was the only Black contestant. I was usually the only non-white contestant, non-Mormon contestant. I was often 1-st runner up to a beautiful blond hair, blue eyed beauty. That is until the day I won. Not only did I win, I won BIG. My mother was there, my grandmother, who flew in from Flint, Michigan for the occasion was there also. It was a big night, Momma had taken off of work to be in the audience. I won every single award that night except MOST PHOTOGENIC. I won best talent, best interview question/answer and Miss Congeniality. This was a special award to me because it was the one award chosen by the other fifty or so contestants for whom they believed best deserved to be crowned that evening. I also won the illustrious title of MISS TEEN UTAH and took my time strolling down the runway. From there I would go onto FLORIDA  for the nationally televised competition hosted by Pat Boone.

The night I was crowned Miss Teen Utah the audience walked out in the middle of my crowning. They simply walked out to show their utter disgust of me standing on stage parading a crown and standing in front of nearly every trophy that was awarded. How they thought could I be prettier, smarter, more talented, more worthy of anything than the white faces on that stage we shared? I was devastated. Mostly I did not want my mother and grandmother to feel the utter shame I felt inside. They both grew up in Mississippi during Jim Crow, so I am not really sure I needed to protect them from anything.

The next day the President of the NAACP came to my home to discuss what had happened the night before. And before the day was out all that had happened was written up in the State's largest newspaper. I became more than a beauty queen. I became a purpose. I became a symbol of tolerance, acceptance and change. In the paper, I spoke about how we were assigned four to a hotel room in two double beds. Imagine how I felt when three beauties slept in one bed because not one of them wanted to sleep beside my mocha skin. I told the paper that I just wanted people to know that we are all the same and if given the chance we could make a better world for all of us. I was sixteen years old sitting in my small cluttered living room with a reporter from the other side of the tracks, wearing a crown that meant less to me by the moment and trying to talk grown up like Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. might sound. I really had just wanted to be more than 1-st runner up. I had really just wanted to be recognized for my beauty inside and out.

What I remember now is being on national television and hearing Pat Boone say, La Detra, lovely La Detra. And not a single person came from the Utah Pageant to support me. Change takes time. It starts with beauty on the inside.

Stop telling yourself that you aren't good enough to remain in a constant state of happiness. Stop believing the worst about you wishing it into existence simply because you never put a STOP to owning it. Just stop it. Don't allow those yucky thoughts of self-defamation to rise to the surface and stop you from whatever. Stop buying into what they say about you. Say to yourself, the only thing that really matters is what I allow myself to say to me. It is my voice that I listen to.

Let go of those excuses you harbor for safety sakes. If there is something you want to do, then do it. If there is something you do not want to do, then by all means just don't do it. Put aside what you think you are missing out on by trying to be someone you are not. Put that time into becoming your vision of what you want, what you dictate. You know yourself better than anyone. So the next time someone dares to tell you about you, shut them down in their verbal tracks. You will be glad you did.

STOP wasting time on yesterday. Stop being dead weight for someone else's amusement. Get moving ahead even if that means leaving behind what it is you know you should have been rid of long ago. STOP being that punching bag so that someone else can feel better than you. STOP now while you still can. Don't allow anyone to compare you to anyone else. Take in your magnificence. STOP waiting for them to validate you. Screw them.

Stop all that because it hurts. It hurts you. STOP HURTING YOU.