Archives for July 2021

You don’t know this, but…

I have loved you for centuries.
Eons.
Millenniums.

Before time.

I loved you as a King.
A warrior.
A slave.

I have loved you as a field-hand.
As an artisan who worked wood into still life.
As an elevator operator accused of raping a woman who was white.

Terrorized for.
Tarred and feathered for.
Burnt and lynched for.

The same White Woman you married a century later.

And still I loved you.

I have loved you in the belly of the slave ships, floating in bile and vomit.
In the cotton-fields.
In the penitentiary.

I have loved you when you hated me.
When you hit me.
When you and your boys ran trains on me.

I have loved you.

I have loved you while you turned your back on me.
While you watched me struggle to feed our children.
While I had a nervous breakdown from having to do this life without you.

I have loved you.

I have loved you from the moment God blew life into your dirt-made body.
From the moment you pulled my pigtails on the playground.
From the moment you went senile and could not remember my name.

I have loved you Black Man.

I have never stopped loving you.
I can’t.
I’ve tried.

When I love me…
I am loving you.

When I forgive me…
I forgive you.

When I heal me…
I make room for you to heal you.

You don’t know this.
You couldn’t.

But I do.

I have loved you before space and time.
Before the sun snuggled up in the sky.
Before God said and there was.

I will always love you.
Father.
Uncle.
Brother.
Nephew.
Cousin.
Friend.
Lover.
Mate.
Partner.

My love for you, Black Man, is eternal.

Title: Love Eternal
By: Dr. Venus Opal Reese

In eight weeks I will be 50.
I’ve been single for the past 3 years.
Sex is a distant memory. #iminheat

I knew when I divorced I wanted MORE.
More intimacy.
More care.
More sex.

Mind-blowing sex.
Ugly face-making sex.
Speaking in tongues kind of sex.

As a street urchin saved by grace through the love of my 9th-grade math teacher, I was unprotected and exposed as a child to sex.

Men.
Women.
Both.
Since 6.

Some violent.
Some not.
Some forced.
Some requested.

All in the name of love.

Sex.
Love.
Violence.
Conflate.

Simply and gently put: I have appetites.

I did not bring my appetites to my marriage. My former spouse was a gentle, loving, wonderful soul. She had no capacity for my appetites. She was middle/upper class and was a virgin to violence and street culture. Which is why I married her!!

She was my shot at normalcy.
She was my American Dream.
She was home.

So I suppressed my appetites.
I didn’t want to make her dirty.
She was clean. Good. Wholesome.

I am not.

So once I ended my marriage and got into therapy, I confronted how much I hated myself.

It took some time but I healed my way into not only self-acceptance but more importantly, self-approval.

Self-approval is the gateway into self-love.

When I was married AND even before, I would twist myself into knots trying to be what my partner wanted. I suppressed myself in the name of love.

I was wrong.

I just couldn’t jeopardize the loss of the normalcy, of having a stable home and being loved, by trying to make my spouse participate in things that went against her nature.

Had I taken the gamble maybe we would be married.
Or not.

There’s no way of knowing.

What I do know is it’s taken to my 50th rotation around the sun to accept and approve of me.

I am not straight, gay, or Lesbian.

I.
Am.
Queer.
Identified.

Queer Identity is the only social space where I feel safe. Where I feel like myself. When I divorced, I committed to myself to be happy and fulfilled. And that included including my appetites.

I met an exceptional older gentleman who not only accepts me but approves of me.

He makes me giggle.
Laugh.
Hide my face when I smile.

I can tell him the truth.
I can be myself.
I can have my appetites in a safe and nurturing way and not be judged, chastised, or invalidated.

But more than anything he treats me like I am the most precious, beautiful, and erotic woman on the planet!!!

He makes me laugh.
And blush.
And smile.

He sends me gifts weekly.

AND he will NOT consummate our relationship until AFTER our “consideration” period. Meaning, we court until we have bonded emotionally and intellectually before we have physical intimacy.

He’s a smart man. He doesn’t want my body. He wants my heart. The truth of the matter is, I can use him for my sexual pleasure and walk away. I’m NOT above it. #iminheatremember

He wants more.
He wants me.
I’ve NEVER had this before.

I got giddy!
I shared on Facebook about his most recent gift and several people said I was too old to be THIS excited about my new bae. Here’s the link to see for yourself: https://fb.watch/v/KNxZRCmu/

Am I too OLD to have NEW love?

Due to the trauma of my past, it has taken DECADES to heal and be well. I was so busy healing that I didn’t have the time nor the capacity to trust and take my time with an equal. So when well intentioned people chide me for my overflow of JOY because I’m giggling like a schoolgirl, I’m present to how little acceptance is given to mature women expressing romantics happiness in ways that aren’t “age-appropriate.”

I know I’m half a century. 50 years alive is a big deal especially when I never planned to live past 20. The streets are unforgiving.

But God said my latter will be greater than my former. And I believe God.

I’m old enough and mature enough now to NOT people please or be “nice” at the sacrifice of my fulfillment and joy.

Perhaps I AM too old to blush or get giddy over being courted and wooed by a sexy, successful, compassionate “gentleman dom” (look it up if you don’t know) who can feed my appetites without physically touching me.

Ok.
I’ll be too old then.
I choose to feel ALIVE! Sexy and erotic!
I am committed to being fully self-expressed, cherished, and fulfilled from now to the day I die.

AND, if me and my gentleman suitor evolve into a long-term relationship I am fully confident I will have MIND-BLOWING SEX that makes me forget my name!

At the ripe old age of 50!

Let the church say amen.

Amen and thank God.

I can’t believe it…
It’s happening.
I mean REALLY happening.

We are doing a prelaunch campaign for my digital platform in the next couple of weeks to build buzz and to test the market.

I’m in my feelings but not in a bad way.

I don’t believe God could ever give you or I a vision that wasn’t already manifested in the mind of God.

I’m in my feelings because there’s no fear in me.

*Maybe it’s because I’m turning 50 and I no longer have anything to prove.

*Perhaps I have emotionally matured and spiritually evolved enough that I know that this is God’s work and has NOTHING to do with me and my willpower to “make things happen.”

*Or maybe I have no fear because I have failed my way into success so many times, I’m no longer threatened by the prospect of failing.

Failure is never real. It’s just more data to clarify one’s next winning move.

Be that as it may, please send up prayers, good juju, well wishes, and divine light.

My prayer is this digital platform fills a need in the market space that transforms the world.

To tame my inner critic and perfectionism, I’m relating to the first year as beta and information gathering from Early Adopters and users. It’s my first shot at a tech startup so I’m taking the pressure off of me by realizing that this is a “first to market” platform. So I can expect bugs.
I feel like my entire life groomed me to do this. As far as I am concerned, God’s got it.

“When destiny and victory FINALLY collide/There’s no sound more sweeter than when God says it’s time” – Kirk Franklin
And I am grateful.

Here is one of the frames from the sales page. It’s real, raw, and unapologetic. I wanted the platform to be fearless & inclusive in its content while also being feminine and powerful in its presentation.
Here’s a “sneak peak.”

What do you think?

If you haven’t already and want to be the first to know when we start the prelaunch, sign up here:
http://bit.ly/DrVenusAppInfo

I love you,
Dr. Venus

Getting fit for 50!!!!
I’m launching my tech start-up on my 50th birthday so I’m putting in the work now!

Pray for me!

September 23, 2021 will be my 50th birthday. I’m choosing to mark the moment by launching my tech startup on my birthday.
In preparation for this half-century milestone, I’m preparing myself emotionally, mentally, and yes physically.

The more I speak my truth on behalf of empowering Black Women to empower ourselves emotionally and economically, the more attacked, resistant, and even banned I am.

It takes a level of mental toughness to let the haters hate while standing in one’s power and not take any of it personally.

That’s where working out comes in.

My trainer pushes me. He insists I am capable of more than I think I am. He is a brilliant and compassionate Black Man who empowers my power by driving me to go further than I think I can.

Sis, you cannot fulfill your destiny if you don’t let others empower you and in some cases activate your power.

As I birth this startup on my birthday, I give thanks to all the Black men who empower my power, my voice and my commitment to Black Women.

I often want to quit. But my brothers won’t let me.

They send me words of edification, defend me against social media trolls and back me up with information that empower us as a people.
Some brothers question why I only focus on Black Women healing and success.

Other brothers ask how can they help.

Even the Black Men who don’t agree with me STILL empower my commitment to us healing and thriving on our own terms.

I have had to heal my father wound to hear the love of Black Men.

I am not talking about wounded Black Men who are hurt us. I’m talking about brothers who are willing to heal with us.

My trainer pushes me, annoys me, teases me, and ultimately helps me see I’m stronger than I think.

That’s his way of saying, “I love you, sis. I believe in you. I got you.”

And it’s because of his kind conviction I exceed my own limiting beliefs about what I can do.

My men reveal my strength to me.

They make me brave.

So when I want to cry because my body is CONVINCED I cannot do another set, and my trainer reminds me that my tribe is watching, I remember I’m not getting strong for me.

I’m getting stronger for us.
The world is changing.
We are on the rise, sis.
Our voices matter.

We are our ancestors wildest dreams come true.

So as I birth this digital platform on my 50th birthday, please know, in the background, there is an ARMY of Black Men–from my trainer to my app architect to my marketing genius–that are empowering my power…

… in service of you, sis.
Simply put: I can’t do this without Black Men. And I wouldn’t want to.
We heal together.
We build together.
We create a world that works for everyone together.

And I am grateful.

By: Dr. Venus Opal Reese
Date: 7/8/21

On a personal note…
HOT GIRL SUMMER WITH MY DAWG!!!!

I took Happy to a dog beach and it was GLORIOUS!!! We haven’t gone to one in over a year!!!

Look at my baby run!!

I’m trying to keep up with him, but my 50th is coming. My body likes to talk to me and let me know EXACTLY what I can and cannot do! So my knees and hip flexor have me cheer more so than run!

But I run, chase Happy, and let myself feel alive. Even though I will have to soak in a lavender-infused bath when we get home.

I felt free and beautiful running on the California beach in a beautiful swimsuit that flatters my body. Real talk: I felt confident wearing this swimsuit in public. My goal is to wear a two-piece swimsuit by the end of the summer, proud and unapologetic about my (almost) 50-year young body.

My birthday is September 23rd. I’m intending to make it a major milestone for me in EVERY WAY.

Including body acceptance.

When I was young, food was used as a form of punishment and reward. If I did do something bad, food was withheld. If I did something good, being allowed to eat was the reward.

When I punish myself, I perform this same cycle of violence on myself to this very day.

I don’t talk about it because I’m athletic. I get judged, shamed, and criticized for saying ANYTHING about my body shame.

But then I hear a woman, a “soul sister,” speak her truth and I become brave.

If I am to heal the historical trauma housed in my women’s body, I (dare I say we women we?) have to accept and approve of ourselves.

I was raised ugly.
Stupid.
Dumb.
Black sheep.
I was told that I was no good.
A loser.
Never to amount to anything.
Worthless.
A piece of crap.

It’s a revolutionary act to love, accept and approve of myself to me.
And it’s working.

I’m speaking my truth and letting people say what they say with no apology.

I’m letting myself eat what I WANT and not beating myself up mentally and emotionally for wanting carbs.

I’m seeing an acupuncturist to heal my knee and hip flexor so I can run on the beach with Happy, pain-free.

And I can now.

It still hurts but NEARLY as much as it used to hurt.

I am grateful.
I’m grateful to all the women who inspire me to continue accepting and approving me.

There are some special “soul sisters” who make me brave.
These sisters are of different ages, races, and identities, worldwide.
They sustain me and get me closer to my God-self.
Soul sisters feed each other.

We help each other heal through our example.
By how we live.
By how we let our lives serve.
By how we love ourselves.

We heal to fulfill the purpose, the pain and trauma have refined and purified us for.

As women of power and purpose, our collective healing transforms the world.

By: Dr. Venus Opal Reese
Date: 06/27/21