Archives for September 2021

I feel like I’m being born again.
The past is falling away.
What’s arising is nothing short of miraculous.

Mr. er Lover is taking Happy and Me to Las Vegas for a five-day vacation. So I will be off the grid until next week. But in the meantime here are some highlights of my rebirth look for my 50th birthday.

What do you think of the final look?

I LOVE IT!

My stylist called my look, “Billion-Dollar Blonde.”
I couldn’t agree with her more!

What do you think?

I love you,
Dr. Venus

I wasn’t supposed to be born.
My daddy stopped Momma from aborting me in her first trimester.
Then she was sent to jail for holding my daddy’s gun.

She even threw herself down a flight of stairs to “lose” the baby.

God said no.

She was released from jail because I grew inside of her. She hated me. She hated that I was born to a man, whom she loved fiercely, she took the fall for.

I look like him.
I have my father’s charisma and the gift of gab.
I flip money fifty ways, just like my daddy.

I reminded her so much of him that when I was 15, she put a gun to me and said, “You’re just like your father. I should have flushed you down the toilet when I had the chance.” She demanded I beg for my life until I peed on myself.

Momma raised me to hate being alive.
So I hated my birthday.

To bear all the pain I affiliate with the 23rd of September, I do big things on that day to forget that I was ever born.

For my 50th, I had planned to launch my tech startup for and by Black Women. I have 40 content creators, 156 (and counting) early adopters, and marketing collateral that is relatable and ready to go! I am poised to disrupt technology by bringing culture to the cloud.

But I’m not launching on my birthday.

Why?

Because I am healing doing this life alone, unwanted, and relating to myself like I should never have been born.

Let me explain.

I declared birthing 100 Billionaire Black Women in the next 5 years through content and technology not too long after the January 6th Insurrection and the Impeachment trials. I was livid at the contrast of how the police treated the Insurrectionists in comparison to the protestors of the Black Lives Movement. There seemed to be a double standard. The Government changed the rules so “they” always win and I was sick of it.

I saw technology as the way to level the playing field for us, sis, so we could set ourselves emotionally and economically free for the next five generations. I wanted to prove that we didn’t need to depend on, go to, or through White Supremacist structures anymore.

I was so adamant about this, I funded the beta with my own cash.

The closer we got to my birthday, the more anxious I became. I could hear Momma screaming ugly words at me.
Stupid.
Dumbass.
Worthless piece of crap.
Should never have been born.
The more I stressed, the harder I worked.
The less I would allow ANYONE to help me.

Until I was so anxious, I crashed.

I took five days to do a transformation course to heal the past that was so loud in my head. Over those five days, I just focused on myself.

I took the time to slow down and realized I was doing everything myself because I didn’t deserve to be alive. Why would anyone want to help a stupid, dumb, and ugly worthless piece of trash? What if people helped me but then threw it in my face, as Momma did? Or use their help against me? Or hold it over my head so I owed them?

As I sat and cried, I realized what was missing was loving leadership– I could lead this project from the space of love not proving others wrong; support–being open to help and giving it to others as an act of love, and empowering partnership– allowing myself to be a team player instead of the hero.

In this created context, my heart healed. Instead of regretting being alive and having a birthday, my heart flew wide open with gratitude and space for how very supported I AM and all I have to do is let people love me.

I now have an experienced and proven tech advisor who is BRILLIANT and Jewish! #inclusivesupport
I’m grooming content creators to be part of my leadership team.
I am doing a kick starter campaign so the project stops being a “me” project and becomes a “we” project.

We will launch the Gurrl App in 2022 to make room for investors, equity partners, advisors, and affiliates.

If you want to come along for the ride, go here: www.TheGurrlApp.com/presale

So instead of burying the self-hate of my birthday beneath a launch, I chose to let myself feel LOVE on the day I was born 50 years ago!

My boyfriend, “Mr. Lover Lover” is taking Happy and me on a five-day vacation to Las Vegas!! Spa day. Cirque du Soleil. Crazy Horse Gentleman’s Club #grownandsexy and SO much more–all starting on the day that used to remind me I should have never been born.

Allowing myself to be loved by an EXTRAORDINARY Black Man makes me think of my father.
My father fought for my life before I was born.
I was loved before I drew my first breath. Perhaps my birth was my father’s greatest accomplishment.

Perhaps all the love my boyfriend LAVISHES on me is the manifestation of my father’s love, received…

What if in me healing and celebrating being born, I am healing the generational wound of Black Love as old as chattel slavery?

Perhaps my boyfriend’s love is the love of God the Father, made flesh…

I don’t know.
I do know my heart is open, unafraid.
Joyous.
Healing makes us whole.
I love you, sis.

“I’m sorry I hurt you.”
Water wells up in my eyes.
I fall backwards through space and time.

I am on the Plantation.

Overseer ties me to the whipping post.
He rips my back red with lash.
I scream with each fire red lick.

My “He” is forced to watch.
And says nothing.

Mistress insists our daughter be sold to a sadistic Owner who is a known pedophile as punishment for Master’s “interest” in me.

Our baby girl is 5.

She cries for her daddy to save her,
arms outreached tears carving betrayal and sadness into her skin, her soul for seven generations.

You, my “He,” are made to watch.
And do nothing.

Master bends me over a stall,
hikes my dress up, exposing my backside to the cruel air and takes me.

You, my “He,” are instructed to watch.

And see everything.
Without protecting me.

I see you see me see you-
let Massa pollute my womb and soul.
Beat and mutilate me.
Sell our children away out of spite of our love.

My heart dies to you.

For over 400 years you, my “He,” have disappointed me, failed to protect me and been incapable of providing for me.

So I did it myself.

Like a lioness, I have provided for and protected that which I call my own–including you–with a ferocious love.

From then to now, I haven’t trusted you to put my needs above your own survival.
While I understand it, secretly I’ve resented you.

And you knew it.

My hurt mingled with your shame, embarrassment, and guilt that kept us oceans apart emotionally.

But then something happened.

You forgave yourself.

When you forgave you, the shame fell away like shackles. Your head rose and you no longer needed to run.
Defend.
Justify.

Just like a lion’s presence is his power, by forgiving you for not being there for me, your power from within was restored to its quiet, regal glory.

When you forgave yourself, you, my “He,” could see my anger was hurt
hiding the eternal love I have for you.

You were able to get in my world.
Feel my pain.
Without it equaling you were a failure.

It took over 400 years for you to say to me, “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

It took seven generations for me to hear it.

So when I cry in your arms as you rock me,
what we are doing is healing…

… We’re healing Black love.

One of my biggest fears about Juneteenth becoming a federal holiday was commercialism. Why celebrate the freeing of Texas slaves when you can get great discounts at Macy’s?

Federal holidays have become synonymous with sales.

Federal holidays are marketer’s show-boating just how good they are at enticing people to salivate about 60% off an item they didn’t want. The holiday’s meaning disappears the moment that bright red poster starts to scream “SALE!”

Take Labor Day for example.

Did you know that Labor Day was created because workers were treated like crap? From around 1882 through the Industrial Revolution, poor men, women, and children of ALL race where working 14-16 hours days, without breaks, water, and in some cases ventilation. So Labor Unions were formed to protect, fairly pay, and respect the American worker.

Needless to say, they met opposition. Big Business (think Amazon or Apple fulfillment centers) to law enforcement to the Federal Government wasn’t having it. And in some cases went as far as bombing coal miners to stop them from unionizing.

Don’t take my word for it.

Here is a resource to get your own revelation.

Labor Day is not about a sale.

It’s about American working-class people organizing to protect their dignity, health, and provide for their families. As Black women, we know how easy it is to be exploited because you have mouths to feed. Labor Unions were created to stand up for the exploited. But we never really talk about that while we are being seduced with great savings.

So I can not say “Happy Labor Day.” I know too much.

What I can say is this:
I witness and celebrate all the workers who go unsung because you don’t have a voice. I thank you for doing backbreaking work for my quality of life. I know you need that job. I know you are not compensated as you should be and I know it sucks.

I used to scrub floors and pick up the trash off the highway to get paid a few dollars an hour just to survive. I feel you.

I am not a union but I am a person who grew up dirt poor and knows the pain and the pride of grit. I thank you for loving your family so much that you would keep working in hazardous conditions for damn near pennies.
I admire you.
I look up to you.
I celebrate you.

Sincerely,
Dr. Venus–a poor girl from the streets of Baltimore. #dontletthedrfoolya

Not in a MILLION years!!!

I NEVER imagined I could feel PEACE & JOY with SO much going wrong in the world.

Is it just me, or does it seem like the book of REVELATIONS is being acted out in high definition?

I’m not just talking about the COVID mess worldwide.
Or the natural disasters in the US.
Or the loss of American lives in Afghanistan.

I mean cray-cray in my own life.

From lower back pain that made me stop working out.

To my dog, Happy’s dermatologist “recommending” I administer two shots a day for TWO MONTHS, then one every week for a year to cure his environmental allergies. #wtfffff

To breaking up with my bae for saying he didn’t know if he was the “right” man for me because he didn’t want to keep triggering me.

Had any ONE of these incidents happened at any other time in my life, I would have rained down RIGHTEOUS HOLY HELL–without remorse. And dealt with the consequences gladly. #realtalk

But I’ve been working on myself in preparation for my 50th coming up in three weeks.

I’ve been reading articles, listening to meditations, and investing in personal development programs online. I’ve been taking more me-time just to be still and hear my own thoughts instead of listening to the world.

I’m committed that the next 50 years of my life are the BEST 50 years of my life!

I realize I no longer have to fight. I can stand for what I believe and do my best to transform the world. If all I can do is donate to Haiti then I know in my heart, I am doing God’s work.

I’m not going to take Happy through all those shots. We will find another way to tend to his allergies. I promise. #puppyloveisreal
I will keep taking Pilates, visit my chiropractor, and do deep tissue massage for my back.

My bae went on a “please-forgive-me-for-being-an-idiot-and-I-am-sorry-for-my-insecurities-getting-on-you” makeup binge. He got himself sorted out with his therapist.
#smartman

He has sent one certified overnight letter, three cards, two dozen freshly cut white roses (which are my favorite), and had groceries delivered to me because I haven’t been feeling well this week. I’m still a little grumbly, but I appreciate all the work he is putting in. It means a lot to me and makes me want to try with him.

All of these actions are a result of the future I am living into, which I have articulated as a possibility. #somuchyes
Here it is!

Who I am is the possibility of loving leadership, support, and empowering partnership!!! How cool is that?????
This possibility, this contextual domain is a WONDROUS organizing principle to live my life from.

It takes the pressure off of fighting to make the world a better place.
It allows me to let myself be supported instead of having to do it alone.
It lets me be a team player instead of having to be the hero.

So instead of being overwhelmed by all that’s happening in the world and in my life, I have a created and inspired space to stand so love wins instead of despair.

I now have a created context that moves me joyfully and transforms my actions, my words, and my experience of life itself. It let’s me have grace with myself so I can give grace to the world.

What possibility can YOU create, sis, that inspires you? The world will keep on doing what it does, but we don’t have to live at the effect of the never-ending news cycle of doom and gloom.

Being “in” the world is different than being “of” the world.
Please remember that sis.
Let me hear from you.
I love you.

Dr. Reese