Friday, October 12, 2012

Connect With Me On Facebook

These days, I rarely update my blog anymore (between having problems with Blogger and using the computers at the public library, it's hard to keep up). It's easier to just post my thoughts on Facebook, so make sure you connect with me there. (Facebook.com/ZairesPlace)

Peace and blessings,

TC

Monday, September 10, 2012

9-11: May We Always Remember

I want to remember people jumping. Debris falling. Buildings collapsing. I want to remember people running. Endless crying. I want to remember terrorists’ faces. Blood splattered. I want to remember that day as vividly as the very first September 11th.

Eleven years ago, my co-worker came to my cubicle and told me the World Trade Center had just been hit and I dismissed it, told her it was a mistake…some pilot who went off course. I went on with my work like she hadn’t said anything at all (well, playing on the computer and pretending to work is more like it).

Minutes later, the second tower was hit. Murmurs went around the office and we began to realize it wasn’t an accident. We went to the multipurpose room and gathered around the television set to find out what was going on. Many people didn’t move as they took in the news. I was in shock, wondering about a friend who lived in the center of it all. I remember trying to call her and not being able to get through. It wasn’t until days later that I found out she was okay, but that was little consolation after I heard the numbers of all the souls who perished that day.

In the weeks and months after the tragedy, I remember crying non-stop. One minute I would be okay and the next I would bust out in tears. I took the terrorist attacks hard and felt guilty for not taking it seriously when my co-worker came to my cubicle. Now, I try to tell myself that there was no way I could have imagined the magnitude of what was really going on. I mean, it isn’t everyday that planes fly into buildings. But one major lesson I learned from that day is to ALWAYS PAY ATTENTION because you never know when something will be much bigger than you think.

For months after September 11th, I remember being afraid that a plane would come out of nowhere and hit my office building. To this day, whenever I hear a plane getting too close for comfort I get scared and my heart sinks wondering if it’s a terrorist attack and the plane is going to crash.

This past summer, I kept hearing plane engines over my apartment and started to freak out. I was about to pick my daughter up and duck for cover. Instead, I mustered enough courage to go outside and see what was going on. Turns out there was a jet show happening and I was relieved. Needless to say, September 11th has changed the way I see planes forever (not to mention how I feel when I see a clear day that looks “September 11th blue”).

During this time every year, I make sure I catch any documentaries that air to commemorate that horrible day (now that I’m blessed to have cable again, I was able to watch a couple of documentaries this past weekend). It’s my way of remembering…to never forget the horror that those who lost their lives went through…the thousands of stairs they had to walk down…the way people helped one another in the midst of complete and utter chaos. That’s the least I can do to honor those who died.

I will never forget what happened on September 11, 2001, and I plan on telling my daughter so she won’t either. May the souls that were lost rest in peace.

Thursday, August 23, 2012

A Bunch of Randomness

So, I got my computer back this week. A friend of mine took a look at it after my hackers took control of the cursor for the second time (see “The Case Against TC” and The Dangers of Social Media"). You don’t know how violated you feel when you realize that your every move has been seen by a hidden force that has a vendetta against you. And just imagine someone taking control of your computer while you’re on it and not allowing you to move your cursor or start inserting typos as you type. It’s scary and very unnerving.

When I first got my computer, I called her Mandy. Recently, I started calling her Christine (yup, like in that old Stephen King movie) because she’s possessed. As I said before, these hackers are experts at hiding their spyware, so I’m sure they’re still lurking in the background even though my friend attempted to get rid of them. I’m also pretty sure that these are the same people/hackers who keep listing the old version of my novel Zaire’s Place on Amazon for 40-50 bucks. They put the ad up and then take it down almost weekly, trying to auction it off to the highest bidder.

Just for the record, the paperback version of Zaire’s Place is out of print. As I said on my website, I am no longer affiliated with the publisher who published it (after a royalty dispute, we parted ways). I spoke my mind about the issue on Amazon and my website and I’m moving on. I have bigger fish to fry. Besides, I’m sure no one is foolish enough to buy that old version at such a ridiculous price. (But be sure to purchase the Kindle version, which is the only version that should be available. *ends shameless plug*)

Until I can get another computer, I’ll continue to use Christine as a word processor and go to the library for other things (not that the library’s computers are any safer, but it’s better than nothing). I know…this blog post is a total snoozefest so far. It’s taking me a second to get back into this blogging thing again (it’s been such a long time since I wrote my last post). Anyway, as you can see, this post is a conglomeration of my thoughts, hence the title “A Bunch of Randomness”.

Moving on. I have been fortunate enough to be staying with someone who has cable and I have been taking full advantage of it. I didn’t realize how much I missed cable until I laid hands on that remote. As soon as I began to search the “On Demand” section, I began to salivate at all that I had missed (music videos, my news shows, “Drop Dead Diva” on Lifetime.). *sighs in contentment* Cable is such a good thing.

I spend a lot of time watching music videos, especially Chris Brown’s. (Yes, I’m in love with him even though I wouldn’t want to be caught dead in a room with him…oh, the irony.) I’m amazed at how white-washed black music videos have become. Back in the day, you would see various shades of black women shaking their rumps for the camera. (Well, mostly light-skinned women.) Today, our black brethren have no qualms about having white women grace their presence and the black girls are sprinkled here and there. For example, when Chris Brown first came out, black girls were prominently featured in his videos (“Say Goodbye”, “With You”). Not lately. It’s kind of sad.

On one hand, I wouldn’t want any of my sistas on some of these “ho-deos”, but on the other hand I’m dismayed that our brothers don’t see us as attractive enough to feature us as sex symbols and would rather go out of our race. Of course this topic has been debated ad nauseam, especially with the light skin/dark skin dynamic. But now it’s taken on a new layer as white women are becoming the norm in our videos. It makes me wonder how things will be when my little girl grows up (not that I would want her to watch any of the hip-hop videos anyway). But it crosses my mind.

Another topic: politics. If you follow me on my Facebook page (Facebook.com/ZairesPlace), you know that I have been going off on political spiels and sharing my thoughts on the election almost every day. This race has made so many emotions well up in me because of the ugliness that it’s unveiling about race in this country, about class in our society.

Most of ya’ll already know that I’m so pro-Obama that’s it’s not even funny.And it makes me want to scream because of how they (the Repubs) are lying on him and belittling all his accomplishments (that new movie about the supposed Bin Laden leaks come to mind).

There’s a lot at stake for this election. I can’t imagine what this country would become if Romney and his cronies get elected. Let’s hope that doesn’t happen. And if Obama does get elected again (fingers crossed), let’s pray that he gets some balls and rough-handles those Republicans so he can get this country on the right track. As Spike Lee said on “Piers Morgan”, once a president wins a second term, he is more likely to do whatever he wants because his job is no longer at stake. Let’s hope so. We’ll see what happens.

Friday, July 13, 2012

Don’t Be Fooled By Appearances

The political season is in full swing and my man Obama is taking a beating. That jobs report was pretty bad. Okay, some people are saying it was awful. I would be lying if I said I didn’t feel my stomach sink as I listened to the news about the numbers. 

But here’s the thing: Don’t be fooled by appearances. What do I mean by that? I’m rereading “The Value in the Valley” by Iyanla Vanzant and one thing she says is never, ever be fooled by appearances. Things may look bad on the surface, but you don’t always know what is going on underneath. One economist on CNN says that he has confidence the economy is on the precipice of an economic explosion in the right direction. We must remember that we are now gaining (instead of losing) jobs. We must remember that more jobs have been created during Obama’s presidency than were created during all the years that Bush was in office. 

Again, don’t be fooled by appearances. Mitt Romney would have us believe that he is the solution to the economy. But, as Obama and his administration are saying, their (the Republicans’) policies have gotten us where we are today—in economic ruins.  

For years, under Bush everyone thought things were fine. Everyone thought our economy was robust and in good health. We got fooled by appearances. Underneath the surface, disaster was brewing, Wall Street was cheating folks, and the housing industry was collapsing. All of this was hidden and going on beneath the surface until one day it bubbled up and our economy nearly died.   

Under Romney (should he win), what if the same thing happens again? What if everything starts to look like it’s going in the right direction, but it really isn’t? Wall Street will be conducting business in the “same old, same old” fashion. The wealthy will be getting their tax cuts. Big business will go on as usual. And I’m sure the economy will start to look like it’s well, but what will be going on beneath the surface? 

Yes, Obama has wrinkles that he needs to iron out (and fast). He needs to grab Congress by the balls and make them do what they need to do to get this country rolling. I’m convinced the Republicans in Congress are trying to stonewall President’s O’s plans in an effort to bring the economy to its knees so they can win an election. The election means more to them than the people of America. Isn’t that a shame? 

Obama cares. He really does. I would rather go with him than a person who has a record of benefitting the rich and leaving the poor behind. I’m not going to be fooled by Romney’s appearance…the promises that he makes…because I know the catastrophe those promises—that façade—will cause. And hopefully you won’t fall for it either.

Wednesday, June 27, 2012

Rielle Hunter - The MHWIA


Unfortunately, I hate to admit it, but I have been the other woman before—one time knowingly, the other unknowingly. At both times, I believe Karma dealt me horrible blows for my inexcusable actions…blows that made me fall to my knees and repent for my erring ways. Rielle Hunter not so much.


The most hated woman in America (MHWIA) is now saying that she and her “Johnny” have broken up. I’m not buying it. She made the announcement on “The View” in what I think was a ploy to gain sympathy from women who were slated to eat her alive (and rightly so). First of all, she came on the show all covered up, unlike her “20/20” interview with a male host in which she bared her long legs for the world to see. I saw it as a manipulative ploy to gain sympathy from the ladies of “The View” so they wouldn’t light into her ass. It didn’t work.  


If you (she and John Edwards) can lie to the nation in such a bold and daring manner by coming up with baby daddy ruses, why not lie to America to gain sympathy so you can sell your book? They are smart enough to know that people wouldn’t touch that book if they are still together, so now they come up with the story that their tryst has ended? Insane. Again, I’m not buying it.



How dare that woman…the woman who slept with a married man—a married man who had a wife who had cancer nonetheless…talk about Elizabeth Edwards the way she does?! On “20/20” she called her a “witch on wheels” and blamed her for the reason why Edwards stayed—saying that Elizabeth knew how to make his life hell if he went against her wishes. And once again, the man who does wrong by breaking his vows comes out clean as a whistle while the women claw away at each other. Well, “woman” is more like it because Elizabeth can’t fight from the grave.



Shame on Rielle Hunter for blaming Elizabeth. Shame on her for letting John escape with little culpability. Shame on her for continuing to speak well of her and Edwards’ union without acknowledging how wrong it was for her (and him) to do what they did.



What Ms. Hunter is quickly forgetting is that the same way you get them is often the same way you will lose them. The only reason why she has/had her “Johnny” is because women around the world now recognize him for the scumbag he is and wouldn’t touch him with a 10 foot pole.



Look, people fall out of love and in love with someone new everyday. It’s life and we can’t help it. But to absolve yourself of wrongdoing and act like what you did wasn’t wrong is unbelievable and unacceptable. And I hope Karma pays her and “Johnny” a swift visit. But if we believe their lie, it already has because they are no longer together.

Friday, June 22, 2012

The Shore - A Short Story


The Shore

By

T.C. Galltin

She washed up along the beach, her body contorted in the most unusual position. Her black hair was stringy and death discolored her skin. If she would have known it would have been her last week on Earth, she would have done things differently: told her family she loved them, apologized for wrongs. But no one knows when the end will come, do they?


The waves touched her skin repeatedly. The beach was quiet as the sun was beginning to rise, the purples and pinks dancing on the horizon. Maybe someone would find her, discover that she was missing, and soon her family would be crying from the news.


The seagulls called out to one another. They had found their morning meal, something to peck away at before the fresh meat rotted. Thank God Terra was beyond feeling because she surely would have gone mad at the constant barrage of beaks on her skin.


“Oh my fucking God.”


Daron Moore thought he was going crazy, that the alcohol from a hard night of partying was still in his system. He blinked, but the girl was still there. All of his roommates were back in the guest house, still asleep. He had wanted some fresh air, needed to get away from the smell of stale sweat and came upon this. He did a jig back and forth, placing his hand to his mouth, his head, his hip. What the fuck, he thought. He couldn’t think straight. If he had been thinking straight, he would have known to go back to get help.


He looked at the girl again. She couldn’t have been much older than him, her body naked. He couldn’t help but notice her ample breasts. At a moment like that, that was the last thing he should have been thinking of. Especially on a dead woman. Who did this shit? he wondered, still pacing back and forth on the sand. He touched his pockets, instinctively reaching for his cell phone.


“Damn. I left it back at the house.”


He stared along the beach, hoping someone else was around, that someone else would come along this scene and knock some sense into him, tell him that he was mad, that there was no body there. But there was no one else along the shore. Only him. And her. Her green eyes seemed to be staring at him…staring through him. Eyes the color of the water. He knew he would have to leave the girl there, but he didn’t want to. What if she washed away, carried by the waves back to the sea?


Oh, my Lord. I’m going to have to move her away from the water.


Daron bent over, his six-feet-six inches looking like some sort of awkward geometric form. He could smell the salt water all around them. Then it hit him, the horrid, awful stench of death. He couldn’t bring himself to touch her and could feel the insides of his stomach heave, threatening to come up. What the hell? he thought. I gotta move her. If I don’t and she washes back in the sea, they’re gonna think I’m crazy.


Finally, he made a feeble attempt to reach for her fingers, which slipped through his hands. He breathed in deeply and reached again, this time connecting with the dead form. The skin was hard from rigor…rigor… He couldn’t remember what they called it and began to think of all those times he had vegged out during biology class.


She was relatively small and her body moved easily this time and Daron sighed from relief, watching her legs leave a trail along the sand. There were no signs of trauma—no bullets, no knife wounds, no blood. There was no way for him to know that she had been strangled after being violently raped. All the fluids had been washed away by the salty water.


Terra, in the next realm, was thinking of this stranger who had just moved her body to safety, far away from the touch of the water. She could feel ghost whispers of the pounding her body received as she remembered how her killer went in and out of the crevices of her privates. She could vaguely see his evil grimace as sweat poured off him and fell on her neck, her face. She remembered his grunts as he went back and forth above her. She looked away from her contorted body, not wanting to recall what happened.


She saw the black boy as he sat on the sand, still in shock from his discovery. A peaceful walk during the morning was turning into a huge ordeal. She could understand why he wasn’t going to get help yet. We don’t always react like we should when we find ourselves faced with an unusual situation, especially something like finding a dead body. Yeah, we think we would be calm, cool and collected if faced with the unthinkable, but most of the time we aren’t. Terra found that out the hard way.


“Who the fuck did this?” Daron asked the empty beach. The only answer came from the laps of the water as they hit the shore. “Let me go get help.”


He finally came to his senses and began to make the jog back to the beach house, which had to be a quarter mile from where he found the body. The sun had already come up and was beating down on him. Out of breath, he barged into the house and looked around, trying to see if someone was up.


“Yo, Bobby!” he called, waiting for an answer from his roommate. Nothing. “Seth!”

Again nothing. Damn. They’re still drunk as shit, he thought. They can’t hear a damn thing.


He ran up the marbled steps, his tennis shoes smacking the stone and making noises in the silent, expensive resort. He went straight for their room, shaking Bobby violently.


“What the fuck is wrong with you, D?” Bobby said, throwing his arms up to shield himself from his friend’s hands.


“Someone…someone is on the beach. She’s dead, Bobby.”


Bobby rolled away from Daron and hugged his pillow. He must have thought it was some sort of prank. He was used to Daron and his pranks. He closed his blue eyes and ignored his roommate. If Daron hadn’t drunk all those shots, Bobby probably would have taken him a little more seriously. Daron popped him.


“Yo, if you do that shit one more time, I’m going to whop your ass.”


Daron hit him again and Bobby sat up, prepared to lunge.


“I’m not kidding, Bobby. There’s a girl on the beach. She got black hair and she’s our age. Come on. I’ll show you.”


Bobby looked at him like he had been using drugs or going crazy, but Daron brushed it off. When Bobby saw the body, he would be vindicated. Bobby better apologize for getting ready to start some shit, Daron thought, while Bobby was calling their other housemates.


All five of them made the trek to the beach as questions reverberated around them. Who was she? How did she get there? Who would do something like that? Beach Glacier was a private beach. Only a few people had access to it. Did someone from their area kill the girl? Had she been killed somewhere else and her body traveled the expanse of the ocean, only to land there?


Mitch would have to call his parents and let them know what was going down. But he wanted to see if it was a joke before he made the unwelcome call.


“Daron, if this is some sort of joke, it ain’t funny,” Mitch had said, staring Daron down. “You get us up at the crack of dawn and make me think about having to call my mom. You know how she is. I’m telling you now, it better not be a joke.”


They were almost there.


“Look,” Daron said.


Her pale body was glistening, the sun bouncing off it. Her black pubic hair contrasted with the brown sand and was visible from the distance.


“Holy shit,” Trey said, his Jamaican accent even more accentuated.


It was clear between the boys that something serious was afoot, something that would change them forever.


“You gotta be fucking kidding me,” Adam said, looking like he was about to puke. His blond hair was waving in the wind and his face was pale.


Daron felt possessive over the girl. He didn’t want his buddies to get too close and defile the bond that he felt for her. He had found her and felt the need to protect her. How goddamn ironic is that, he thought. She’s already dead. The worst has been done.


Trey pulled out his phone and Mitch stopped him before he could dial 911. “Wait a minute. There are five guys here. The cops are gonna think we had something to do with it. She’s naked, Trey.”


Trey looked at the guys and put the phone away. Terra exhaled from the safety of her spiritual home. What four out of the five boys didn’t know was that her killer was among them. 

Thursday, June 7, 2012

Fighting on the Street/An Old Lover


It’s weird. I have been feeling the urgent need to revive my cause against domestic violence on social media. With the release of A Recipe for Disaster, my second (but first) novel and my computer issues, I haven’t been on top of domestic violence awareness. Well, yesterday, as baby girl and I were walking home, the Universe reminded me of why I need to continue to raise my voice against DV.

At first I thought they were playing, tossing love taps that young couples often engage in. But then I heard the resounding sound of fists as they landed and knew it wasn’t for fun. He hit her and she hit him back. In the middle of the sidewalk, a couple (about 20 years-old or so) was fighting.

They would throw a few punches as they kept walking down the street, saying a couple of words along with the punches. I couldn’t make out what they were saying. I kept walking up the street toward them. A little girl was crying and getting between the couple (she had to be about 7). My heart broke as I stopped with baby girl and wondered what I should do.

They were coming toward us and the punches continued. My first instinct was to get between them to stop the fighting, but I thought of my daughter and the rough section of town we live in and thought against it. I looked around for help. I saw a woman in a car on her cell phone and prayed that she was calling the police. In case she wasn’t, I fumbled around for my cell phone in my diaper bag and came up with a sippy cup and diapers instead. I cursed myself for not cleaning out the bag so I could find my cell phone easier.

My lips parted to yell “stop” at the couple, but nothing came out. And then I saw him. An old lover. Big. Tall. Strapping. I knew he would be able to stop it. He was walking out of a building toward his car. After years of not seeing him, my first thought in the midst of the frightening situation was, “Wow, he still looks the same. He looks good.” He had noticed the couple, too, but I don’t think he saw me.

“_____, stop them!” I yelled out to him. He said a few words to the young couple and so did I.

“Ya’ll shouldn’t be doing that in front of that baby,” I said. What I really should have said was, “Ya’ll shouldn’t be fighting period.” But we don’t always say the perfect thing in the middle of the moment. It’s only after the incident is over that we come up with the right words.

I looked at the young woman who had also been throwing punches. She looked at me. I saw tears rolling down her face, probably from a mixture of embarrassment and gratefulness. How many times had she and her boyfriend been fighting like that in the middle of the street? I wondered. The boyfriend glanced at my ex-lover. He was skinny and I knew he didn’t want any part of my big, hunk of an ex. They stopped fighting and kept walking as me and my ex watched. Finally, they parted ways and the ex and I were left standing there.

I introduced him to my baby girl. “What?! You done went and had a baby on me?” he said, commenting on how pretty she is, and I smiled with pride. “Yeah, her father is a bastard, but I love my little girl,” I said and told him about my baby daddy and my unlucky streak with life.

“Well, I’m rich now,” he said in that ever-confident, joking manner that he always had. He looked good, like life was treating him well. I glanced down at my worn-out clothes and felt embarrassed. This was the man who had seen me in my hay-day when I was able to get my hair done, buy nice clothes and strut around like my shit didn’t stink. I felt like I was reduced to a lower denominator, but I began to wear my scars with pride as I recounted the past few years. I’m still standing in spite of everything, I thought.

Then he did what I wasn’t expecting. He blessed me financially at a time when I need it the most. He put the money in my hand and hugged me and I couldn’t help but rejoice as I thanked him profusely. God is so good, I thought over and over again. The bitterness that tainted our relationship and caused it to end was gone. Old wrongs were forgotten as we stood there looking at one another. Yes, he’s still sexy. Could I see myself testing those waters again? No. But I can’t see myself with anyone right now. I have a lot of work to do on me before I get involved with anyone again. Besides, the only person I’m concerned about is my daughter and how I can get back on my feet. And knowing my ex, I’m sure he has a gaggle of women in his life right now vying for that #1 spot.

But I’m grateful. Grateful that our paths crossed and he was able to stop a potentially explosive situation. Grateful that he was able to help me and my daughter. Grateful that God used an instrument that once brought me pain to bless me so I could forgive and move on. Grateful that I got a reminder to continue the fight against domestic violence so I will never forget that there’s someone out there who needs to hear what I have to say. And so I’ll continue to speak on.

Monday, June 4, 2012

The Dangers of Social Media


I haven’t done a blog post in forever. This one took a while because of family issues and the fact that I wanted to be careful of how I worded it. As I said before, you can’t implicate someone without proof or you can get yourself in a whole world of trouble. So, now I think I’m ready. Shall we proceed? Yes, indeed.

Social media can be a good thing (you have the world at your fingertips). At the same time, it can open you up to a host of criminals that prey upon unsuspecting victims. My last blog post was about my computer that got hacked. The criminals inserted spyware into my system. This post is about some of the ways they operate.

In my last post, I also mentioned that my hackers have fake accounts everywhere…and I mean everywhere. I’m sure they number into the hundreds. Why the fake accounts? To get thousands of followers at their fingertips.

For example, let’s say you create a quote account, Zen Zenobia, which specializes in disseminating new-age quotes to center yourself. On Twitter, these hackers will have their already existing fake accounts mention this account so it can gain new followers. They may even set up a Facebook page for the account and a website (there are tons of websites that these hackers have set up, but I’ll speak more on that later).

By getting other accounts to mention Zen Zenobia, Zen’s followers can skyrocket into the thousands. I suspect there are hundreds of accounts that are controlled by the same hackers. What next? Zen now has thousands of followers clicking on her links and downloading things that may have spyware programs attached to them. (It’s a known fact that cyber criminals often tag along onto legitimate programs to infect a host’s computer.) After amassing their followers, these criminals now have a gaggle of people they can prey upon. Not to mention the fact that the more followers they have, the more followers they will gain because people want to be in on the next big thing.

The hackers set up blogs and other websites as another way to scam unsuspecting victims. I saw one blog that claimed to have a Word Press plugin, which may very well be legit. But let’s say that the hacker attached spyware to that Word Press plugin. Next thing you know, your personal information is at their fingertips. They can look into your e-mails, steal your credit card information and then infect others in your address book. By the way, they even have a website catering to black women that has almost 50,000 followers. Once again, they are everywhere, doing everything they can to generate money by any means necessary.

Another thing these accounts do once they amass followers is ask for donations for this cause or that. The cause may or may not be legit. In most cases, they will tag along on a legitimate cause like breast cancer awareness in order to appear trustworthy/altruistic. But what the scoundrel is really concerned about is scamming people out of their hard-earned money. For example, one fake account asked for $1 donations from their followers for “operating costs”. Ahem *coughs*. Scam alert. They may even have a “contest” to choose the next best independent novel. But what they will do is have a $25 contest fee. At $25 a pop, imagine how much money they’re raking in.   

The social media accounts in question also stress that you share their FB page or Twitter account with your friends and family. And we all know why: to get more followers. I have seen these hacker accounts constantly offer prizes so you can share their FB page with people in your network. It’s like leading animals to the slaughterhouse. Because of us—and because we have shared their information—they have a host of people they can prey upon.

As I said in my last post, I have seen publishers create fake accounts to lend prestige to their authors in order to sell more books. They even go so far as to acquire manuscripts and steal pictures of people in order to create a whole new persona to sell books. Whose pictures and manuscripts they are stealing is beyond me, but I know it’s happening. Let’s say this publisher has 50 books they are selling under various labels. Again, imagine how much money they are raking in by creating these personas. These scammers will do anything to achieve their mission of defrauding people.

I believe the same group of hackers is all over the Internet with their fake accounts, their fake websites, etc. trying to figure out novel ways to defraud people and steal money. Let me reiterate: They try to gain prestige for their accounts and websites by amassing thousands of followers so they can look like the next big thing. Many times, the victims have no idea what happened to them and don’t even realize their computer system is compromised. Others, like me, get the feeling that something is not quite right.

Because I began to realize that these hackers set up business ventures (i.e. publishing companies, editing businesses, etc) to hide what they’re really about, they came after me. They tried to sabotage my self-publishing venture by attacking me with a fake account that posted a scathing review of my novel. They also changed my social media posts so I could appear incompetent or deleted them altogether. It took a year before I realized what was going on. (Read my other blog post "The Case Against TC" to find out what happened.)

This hacking ring is bigger than me and my little old computer. Who knows how long they have been operating and hacking computers. I really hope someone brings them down, but why do I suspect that’s not going to happen? It hasn’t happened yet and law enforcement is behind the times in dealing with cyber crimes. The only thing I can do is hope that Karma pays them a visit, that something takes them down. I actually feel like I’m the protagonist in a movie…”War Games” or something like that. You know, the one who knows that evil exists but no one believes them. Le sigh. Until they are taken down, be careful out there, folks. Someone is always watching.

Monday, May 14, 2012

The Case Against T.C.

I never thought I would be a victim of cyber terrorism. When people would claim their computer had been hacked, I would roll my eyes and look upward and think, “Oh, come on.” Until it happened to me.

Spyware is real. For months, I always had a feeling someone was watching everything I did on my computer, but I chalked it up to paranoia. Sometimes, as I was working, the cursor/arrow would move across the page or extra windows would open. Again, I passed it off as paranoia and thought my mouse pad was extra sensitive or something. A typo would show up in my Twitter bio or in an important e-mail I was writing and I would question it and wonder how it got there. No, I know I’m not perfect. I have typos often, but these were simple typos…typos that a writer wouldn’t have. And I began to get weirded out. But I still kept using my computer because I had no choice. I’m broke and couldn’t get another one.

One day, I was going about my business on FB and something happened to erase all doubt that I had been hacked. I was typing a status update on Fox 45’s FB page (which has thousands of “likes”) and the end of the sentence happened to get cut off even though I knew I proofread it a few times. Can we say “freak out”?

I started going crazy and typing status updates to let my FB friends and family know what was going on. As I was typing the status update, the cursor began to move over the words I knew I had typed and were replaced by random letters as if someone was trying to stop me from posting the status update. “I’m trying to write and can’t” was the sentence I was trying to get out. The person on the other end of my computer inserted “trying” twice and I knew, then, that it was time to get rid of my computer.

I began to put two and two together and remembered the time that I wrote a status update that read, “I hope my friend can find the bastards who hacked my computer.” Well, that’s what I intended to write, but when I went back to the status a few minutes later, it read, “I hope my friend CAN’T find the bastards who hacked my computer.” Again, I know I make typos, but not like that. That’s when I knew that someone was trying to sabotage me.

It was like my life was flashing before my eyes. I began to think of all the incidents that happened previously that smelled like sabotage. Let me break them down for you.

After my ex-publisher terminated my contract, I tried to log into FB and got a message saying that I couldn’t go by the name T.C. Galltin. I had been going by that name for months. FB has this rule that users have to identify themselves by their full first and last name. I managed to bypass it by not inserting periods in my first name so FB would recognize it as my first name. Why is this important? Because the name on my book is T.C. Galltin. My readers wouldn’t know that my first name is Tynette because I had been going by T.C. for so long. Okay, so I got over that and created a FB page for T.C. Galltin to tell people my real name and direct them to my Zaire’s Place FB page.

So, since my ex-publisher terminated my contract because I questioned my royalty check and I was left without a book on the market, I got the idea to publish it as an e-book. I edited it, created a new cover, which I did on my own with no outside help because no one entered my book cover contest. (We’ll come back to that point later.)

I go to publish my book with Amazon and get a message from them questioning whether I’m the author of my own book. I slaved over that book for months…years…and was appalled. “Does this have anything to do with my ex-publisher?” I asked them. Rather than wait for an answer, I forwarded the e-mail from my ex-publisher that said they were terminating my contract and that all rights for my novel would revert back to me. I also told them that the situation between me and my ex-publisher was ugly and that they threatened to sue me if I said anything “injurious” to their reputation. My ex-publisher also had said that even if I delete them from my FB friends list, they would still be able to monitor me. A red flag went up at that. Anyway, once I sent Amazon the e-mail from my ex-publisher, they went ahead and published Zaire’s Place. I suspect someone had reported me to Amazon trying to block me from re-publishing my book.

Speaking of being monitored. Every time I said something about my ex-publisher, I was always reported to FB in a hot nanosecond. Either I had spies among my FB friends or someone had to be monitoring what I said somehow in order to report me that quick to FB. Uber weird.

Anyway, things seemed to be going smoothly and I was getting back into the flow of having a published book. All of a sudden, I noticed a scathing review of my novel on my Zaire’s Place FB page. It was weird because days had passed and I wasn’t getting notifications for my ZP FB page, so that post from Robin Ro Roden went unnoticed for days. In her “review”, she blasted me as a person. She said that I must hate my race because I chose to jump into the skin of a prejudiced white woman and on and on. And I’m putting it lightly. It was clearly a personal attack against me rather than just not liking my novel, which would have been fine with me. But don’t attack me personally. This chick was nasty. Real nasty.

Robin said she would tell EVERYONE not to buy my book yadda yadda. And check this out. Robin used to be a FB friend of mine that I added because she knew a fellow author, Tyfa Hill, that I added as a FB friend. I knew neither one of them personally but added them anyway just to increase my professional circle. Robin’s posts would be outrageous and very immature, so I deleted her and Tyfa from my FB friends list. Then that scathing review for the rerelease of my novel shows up. In it she also said that Tyfa gave me advice about my new cover. Tyfa never gave me advice about the cover of my novel. The only conversation Tyfa and I had was about using CreateSpace to re-publish my book and that wasn’t even a detailed conversation. She just told me I should consider using them.

At any rate, I didn’t bother responding to Robin’s FB post on my page because I heard that it was best not to respond to trolls. Now I wish I would have ignored that advice because she got away with damaging my reputation without me saying a word. Oh, and let’s not forget that she said I should quit using the name T.C. before I “get a lawsuit”. Um, how can I get a lawsuit for using my own name? Stupid.

An aside: Let me say that there are a lot of fake accounts in cyberspace. Publishers set them up so they can hype up their authors in order to sell more books. Boyfriends/girlfriends set them up so they can catch a cheating lover in the act. For legal reasons, I won’t say more about that, but I think there are plenty of fake accounts out there that are being used to achieve malicious aims. Let’s move on.

So, there I am with the computer version of “Christine” and I didn’t know what to do. A friend of mine who happens to be a computer whiz said he would look at my computer for me. Unfortunately, he didn’t find anything. I know for a fact that my computer is/was hacked. Too many strange things were happening for it not to be. I still believe that the cyber criminals are still living in my electronic home and I think their hacking scam is larger than just my computer (I plan to do another blog post on that in the future). These cyber criminals are professionals. They know how to go undetected by virus scanning systems and they are thugs who will do anything to achieve their mission of lying, cheating and defrauding people.

Please be careful out there, people. Spyware and hackers are real.

Monday, April 30, 2012

Why We Can't Stand Kim K.

I try real hard not to bash other women. It’s such a childish thing. Women who talk about other women behind their back, call each other names, etc. irk the hell out of me, which is why it’s one of the central topics in my novel Zaire’s Place. This post is not about bashing; this post is about stating observations on an intellectual level rather than from an ego trip like some women go on. And here’s the thing: I can’t stand Kim K.

First of all, she has made a living out of doing absolutely nothing at all but put on a show in front of the camera (her reality show, her sex-tape with Ray J.…the list goes on). She is raking in the dough because she knows how to create and stir up drama and doesn’t have any talent whatsoever.

A lot of people have said what I’m saying, yet someone is supporting the trash the Kardashians throw out because they’re making millions of dollars. Is it you? I guess I can give her credit, though. Behind all that lack of talent must be a brain because she’s doing something right in order to make all that money.

Second of all, she’s manipulative and I can’t stand a manipulative person, be it man or woman. Manipulative people try to be like snake charmers making everyone submit to their will using deception. In my book, that’s so not cool. If you have talent, if you have skill, there would be no need for manipulation.

Kim treats everything like a game...the men she deals with, her life…again, the list goes on. The whole Kanye thing sealed my dislike for Kim K. How many men in Hollywood has she gone through (black men at that)? And check it, I don’t even care about the black man thing. I’m progressive enough to accept that. What I can’t stand is her attitude that men/relationships are pawns that you can use to win a prize.

Actually, when you look at it, I think she may have had the same amount of “relationships” that normal women have, but it just seems like a lot because she’s on the world stage. I'll give her that. But the sex-tape thing is just raunchy and to know that you achieved your fame because you got a big butt annoys me because I pride myself on my intelligence and readiness to learn. A woman who achieves everything because of her looks is not favorable to me.

Some people would say I’m jealous because I’m not a “model” or a stunner like Kim K….that I’m just hating. Nope. I love beautiful women and I have no problem letting them know when they’re beautiful. (I actually can’t stand when other women hate on a chick because she’s pretty. It’s so petty. We gotta do better.)

Anyway, I’m rambling. Can you please let me know when Kim/Kanye break up? Until then, I’ll keep my head buried in the sand so I don’t have to see pictures of them getting out of cars with his pants down. 

Tuesday, April 24, 2012

The Art of the Curse Word

In Zaire’s Place, I curse…a lot. My character Aisha Carter has a potty mouth on her and I couldn’t imagine it any other way.

Sometimes, there’s nothing that aptly shows anger, frustration, or pain other than a curse word. When a person stubs their toe, the first thing out of most people’s mouths is a big fat “shit”. Does it stop the pain? Nope. But I’m willing to bet that you feel better after saying it.

The way a person strings together curse words can be indicative of their personality/their background. A person who curses regardless of who is around lets you know they are an open book who doesn’t care about censoring themselves to obtain the approval of others.

Personally, I tend to curse, but I’m careful who I do it around. While my character Aisha has an “I don’t give a fuck” attitude, I tend to be more cautious. But you know something? Out of all the women in Zaire’s Place, I actually like Aisha the most. First of all, she reminds me of my mother. Second of all, I admire her ability to ‘do her’ regardless of who happens to be around. Does she have a lot of bad traits? Absolutely. But who doesn’t? To me, Aisha is one of the most authentic characters in my novel.

I don’t think Zaire’s Place would have been as rich if Aisha didn’t splash profanity everywhere. There are a lot of women out here like her and Zaire’s Place reflects that. As I said before, the old saying that art reflects reality is true, and it should reflect real life. If it doesn’t, it should be labeled a fairy tale and only read by those who don’t want to face the real world.

Many people will shy away from Zaire’s Place because of the profanity. I’m okay with that. There’s an audience for everything. I would rather be true to my version of what my art should look instead of trying to appeal to the masses. No one can do me like me.

By the way, studies have shown that cursing relieves stress and can actually lower blood pressure. I can believe it. There’s a lot of power in those forbidden words. Do I recommend dropping f-bombs everywhere you go? Hell no. *wink wink* But every now and then, only a curse word will do.

Sunday, April 22, 2012

A Dose of Inspiration

This post is going to be a quickie. For some reason, Kirk Franklin’s song “I Smile” has stayed in my head forever and is on instant repeat. Sometimes, I leave the radio on at night on my mother’s favorite radio station, Magic 95.9. I know this is going to sound strange, but that’s when I feel she’s closest to me (Mom passed away last November).

Often, I’ll wake up in the middle of the night as soon Kirk’s song plays or when K’Jon’s “On the Ocean” plays (me and my mother used to sing that one all the time). So, I just wanted to share them with you. Remember to “smile” and look for your ship “on the ocean”.

"I Smile"
Kirk Franklin


"On the Ocean"
K'Jon

Wednesday, April 18, 2012

Are You Going to Have a Summer Fling?

Spring is here. Pretty soon people are going to be outside flaunting their taunt (or not so taunt) bodies and looking for some good lovin’. They’re going to be excited about that person who makes their heart chirp like the birds that cause a ruckus in the wee hours of the morning.

This is the time of year when people line up their summer fling (or flings) and go out to dinner, the park, etc. Yup, in the spring, people and their bodies come alive. But not on this end. Getting some spring lovin’ is the furthest thing on my mind. When you’re trying to straighten the pieces of your life out, ‘getting a piece’ is the last thing you think about.

I, for one, think relationships are a distraction. As women, we tend to get wrapped up into the man we deal with and drop everything else. I would like to hope that I’m not that kind of woman, but sadly I am. I have been known to not return a few calls when I was wrapped in the arms of a current beau before my daughter came along.

When you’re courting someone or in a relationship, your mind focuses on that person even when you’re not with them. As someone who is trying to achieve my mission of becoming an established author, I don’t have time for a fractured mind. Thoughts that are focused on something else mean less attention to my mission.

Not to mention the fact that I have a little girl. I can’t imagine trying to get intimate with another man now that I have her. She’s young and attached to me at the hip. I can’t imagine having someone watch her while I go out and spend time with a fling. And as a mother, I couldn’t imagine bringing a man around her. With all that’s going on out here in the world, you have to be careful who comes into your child’s circle.

Do I think about those warm summer days outside with a man lounging on a park bench? Do I think about getting on the dance floor and getting so close that I absorb his scent? Do I think about those warm nights where the sheets stick to you and your man as you engage in gymnastics? Nope. I don’t miss them at all.

I’m too busy wrapping my arms around my daughter, and to be honest with you, I don’t feel like I’m missing out on a thing. There aren’t a whole lot of quality men out here anyway. If I change my mind, I’ll let you know, but I doubt it. I'm not going to knock anyone who wants to get their groove on, though. Go out there and knock yourself out, but remember to choose wisely.

In closing, let me leave you with an old favorite song of mine by Biz Markie. Enjoy.

Biz Markie
"Spring Again"

Sunday, April 15, 2012

3 Things We Can Learn from the Movie “Aliens”

I’m a science fiction geek. To me, the greatest sci-fi movie of all time is “Aliens”. Sigourney Weaver kicked ass in that movie and I’ll always admire her take-no-prisoners attitude. So, in honor of one of my favorite movies of all time, here are a few things we need to remember in order to navigate the challenges in our own life.

Heroes come in unlikely packages. Ripley wasn’t always a heroine. If anyone would have asked her, she wouldn’t have chosen that role—the role of a champion against alien beings trying to take over the universe one host at a time. She was thrust into that role. Same thing with life. Many times, we have dreams in us…dreams that will not die. (Mine is the dream of a writer, and even though it’s a hard road, I couldn’t imagine giving it up.) You were chosen for that path. You may not feel like it…you may want to give up, but, like Ripley, you have to keep on fighting. You have to be the hero in your own story. Accept that role and revel in it.

No matter how many aliens there are, you can defeat them. “Aliens” is the second movie in the “Alien” franchise. Ripley and her crew were up against hundreds of aliens and things looked pretty bleak. I remember the scene when they were stuck in that room with the red light and all the aliens descended upon them from the ceiling. That scene was one of the greatest scenes in that movie. Yes, they were outnumbered. Yes, people died along the way, but in the end Ripley survived. It’s the same thing with your dreams. You’re going to suffer setbacks. Your dream may seem like it’s going to die (and some aspects of it very well might…that’s the nature of any journey). There will be tons of dreamkillers who descend upon you like those aliens, but you have to keep on fighting so you can come out on top.

The enemy always lives on. Never let your guard down. That doesn’t mean that you have to live in fear, but you need to remember that there are always people who don’t have your best interest at heart. Like Ripley, you will have to fight the alien in the next sequel. They may come in another reincarnation, but they are still the same alien – the ones who claim to be your friends but don’t support you in anything you do, the ones who want to kill your dreams because they are miserable, etc. The alien is out there, but you need to always remember that you are the hero…that you are the victor. And you know what? Heroes always win in the end.

Wednesday, April 11, 2012

Zimmerman Charged – Dawn of a New Day?

Ever since we made our involuntary trip from Africa, our black men have been murdered and lynched. On February 26, 2012, it happened again. At first, it seemed like it would go unnoticed like the many other incidents that preceded it, but then something happened to change that. People heard the screams of Trayvon Martin on that 911 tape and hearts shed tears for a young man who was murdered in cold blood. 

People began to rally around Trayvon and our voices became a force to be reckoned with on social media. Today, we received a slice of justice when we found out Zimmerman will be charged with second-degree murder. I never thought I would feel so much joy for a person I never met. Every time I looked into Trayvon’s big, black eyes, I saw the thousands of men whose lives were taken before Trayvon’s…the men who were lynched for no reason at all simply because they happened to be black and in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Make no mistake about it, coming from the projects, I saw it all…men who were indeed on the wrong side of the law, so I weigh things carefully before I jump up to defend someone. But when a young boy gets killed and the only thing he has on him is a bag of Skittles and a drink, something is most definitely wrong with that picture.

I said it before and I’ll say it again: Zimmerman was on a mission to assert his self-proclaimed power when he killed Trayvon. And, like a bully, he picked on someone who was no match for him. A child screamed for his life on that fateful day. That made me come to Trayvon’s defense. That made me think about all the black men who were shot down like animals because they happened to look “suspicious”. That made me think about the ugly racial divide that always pops up when there is an incident involving black and white.

Many white people were quick to claim Trayvon’s murder had nothing to do with race. When I heard those claims, all I could do was shake my head because it had everything to do with race. Had that young man been a white boy with a hoodie on, Zimmerman would have said “hello” as he passed him on the street and kissed his ass. It had everything to do with race.

I couldn’t let Trayvon’s story die. I rallied behind him. I championed for him, along with the rest of the world. When it seemed like his story would get lost in the media, I’m glad people kept the pressure on that wound, kept talking about it, kept tweeting about it. And “when spider webs unite, they can tie up a lion”.

We did it. There’s still a long road ahead of us, but today justice got a little sweeter. I feel good right now and I hope you do, too. Hopefully, a vigilante will think twice before they shoot one of our innocent brothers again. 

Saturday, April 7, 2012

We Live What We See

The shattered glass surrounded her body as my sister and I screamed. At first, I thought she wasn’t going to get up. My stepfather looked shocked as he reached down to grab her…to pull her up from the glass. He looked sorry, like he didn’t mean for things to get out of hand. My mother sobbed, and he apologized over and over again as he tended to her wounds.

Scenes like this were normal around my house. My mother was a fighter. Unfortunately, my stepfather was, too. Their relationship was volatile. Every time my mother thought he was talking to another woman, she would fly off the handle and hit him. Eventually, he always hit back. I remember feeling horror as I screamed for them to stop so no one would get hurt.

Believe it or not, in the midst of the horrible incidents, there were what we used to consider semi-humorous times…times when my mother would tie my stepfather up so he couldn’t get away and told us to find something so she could do it with. None of that seemed abnormal to me. I thought everyone lived like this.

Sadly, too many children are experiencing things like this on a daily basis. Although my mother and stepfather fought like cats and dogs, I never thought of it as domestic violence. Until today. To me, domestic violence was what I went through when I got older…where it’s not a fight between two equals…where you get whaled on without having a chance to fight back. Until today, I didn’t realize that maybe I found myself in the situation that I was trying to avoid because of what I saw my mother and my stepfather go through.

Children live what they see. My mother never told me not to find a man who didn’t hit me. As I grew up, I was able to realize that something was wrong with the scenarios that played out around our house. But over the years, I never thought about it. I put it to the side—until I found myself at the end of a fist. Even when I was trying to decide whether or not I was going to stay with my then-boyfriend, I didn’t think about what I saw as a kid. But it must have been there. It had to be in my subconscious, playing with me, toying with my memories, but lying dormant. Until today.

Today, I was finally able to put the pieces together. Today, I was able to realize that I am a product of what I saw. Today, I am thankful that I did not repeat the cycle. Today, I’m thankful that someone told me to get out after that first hit.

If you have children, please think about what they are seeing. The things that they’re witnessing will stick with them long after you’re gone, so please make it good.

Thursday, April 5, 2012

The Domestic Violence Project - An Update

domestic violence
I started the Domestic Violence Project back in August 2011 when I began to collect six-word thoughts on domestic violence (to read about it, click here). It was…and still is…my hope to highlight this cause one word at a time.

Although I haven’t collected as many responses as I would have liked, we’re slowly getting there. Michelle Garrett of Divas With A Purpose helped by hosting a contest where she offered 6 Kindle copies of Zaire’s Place, for which I’m grateful.

So, without further ado, here are the responses for the Domestic Violence Project that have been collected thus far. To read my personal story dealing with abuse—“I Remember When”—click here.

If you would like to submit your six-word thought on domestic violence, e-mail tcgalltin@hotmail.com or info@tcgalltin. Let’s put an end to DV one word at a time. 

The Domestic Violence Project
Your Thoughts in Six Words

It’s easy to fight the vulnerable. ~Monay Gunn

WRONG – regardless of the victim’s gender! ~Zoë Davis

Emotional scars last longer than physical. ~Kenneth Weene

Relationships don’t give right to abuse. ~Trish Brown

The scars will always be there. ~TC Galltin

Hitting women is a damn shame. ~Jonnelle Galltin-Otero

Friends, don’t just ignore it – REACT! ~Michelle Garrett

Wake up: Love shouldn’t hurt. ~Maura Alia Badji

He hit me. My soul shattered. ~Dietta Lee

Love should never leave bruised bodies. ~@MrsRKFJ

Prosecute your abuser now not later! ~Ray Leibert Anita

Sorry bandages wounds, leaving heals them.
~Renita Eackels Whitlock

You are never alone – reach out. ~Jody Cowan

I would like to thank all the people who participated in the DVP so far. If you’re a victim of abuse, remember what Jody said, “You are never alone – reach out.” 

Saturday, March 31, 2012

Why I Chose to be Racist and White

Let’s face it. I see racists and they’re all around us. All we have to do is look at what President Obama and Trayvon Martin have gone through. While some racists choose to keep their views hidden, there are plenty of them who wear their hatred on their sleeves.

So, in Zaire’s Place, I chose to take on the persona of a prejudiced white woman, Rebecca Reich. I say some ugly things about my race. But isn’t that what a racist person thinks? Isn’t that the mark of a good writer…to delve into the mind of another person and convey their thoughts? There are some ugly people out there who think ugly things, and I just so happen to write about it.

Some people would say that I must be steeped in self-loathing and self-hatred for my skin color to be able to write such awful things. And I would say it’s the exact opposite. I love myself and I love my black people. I have championed for our causes and do all I can to let it be known that racism exists. By exposing racism for what it truly is (ugly and vile), doesn’t that help move us further along? Doesn’t that let America know that we are not a post-racial society as “they” would like to have us believe? And perhaps (that’s a big perhaps) maybe I can get the conversation of race flowing so that the racist can reflect on his views.

I chose to be white in the same sense that I chose to display the nuances between Charlene and Aisha. By taking on other personas, we come to understand this thing called “the human experience”. It’s the same way that I chose to delve into the relationships between women…how women bash one another and often tear each other down. Isn’t that the job of a writer—to be the mirror of life?

I’m not Polly Anna and I don’t see life as all rainbows. I reflect that in my books (I have another unpublished manuscript that deals with sensitive issues). That’s why I also address child abuse in my novel (and, of course, domestic violence). I write, and often I write about bad things. Why? Because, in life, bad stuff happens. And there are a lot of people who think bad thoughts.

I don’t feel the need to defend what I write and I definitely don’t feel the need to apologize for it. Those who are interested will come, and those who aren’t won’t. They can go and read all the “good stuff” about life that makes them forget that a real world exists…a world filled with ugliness and pain. 

However, I do know that even in the ugly, there is still beauty. And that’s what Zaire’s Place shows…the beauty that can come out of ugliness. 

*steps away from the mic*

Thursday, March 29, 2012

Not My Daughter

Dear Ne-Yo,

Hey, brothaman. Yeah, I know…you don’t know me, but I just had to get in touch with you. I heard about your interview with People magazine where you said that you’re going to do your best to make sure that your daughter doesn’t end up on a pole.

I’m a little confused. If I remember correctly, you blew thousands of dollars at the strip joint recently with your baby mama in tow—the same woman who happens to be the mother of your two children. Excuse me while I process the cognitive dissonance. (Cognitive dissonance: The state of having inconsistent thoughts, beliefs or attitudes, esp. as relating to behavioral decisions and attitude change.)

If you don’t want to raise a daughter who ends up on the pole, I would say it all starts with you. Parents lead by example. A child won’t listen to what you say, they’ll “hear” what you do.

Sure, your daughter has years to go and may never hear about your forays into the “den of meat”, but I wouldn’t be so sure of that. The Internet has a long shelf-life. What would you do if she found out about you and her mama’s escapades years from now? And what’s up with men anyway? The same women ya’ll condemn (strippers, “hoes”, etc.) are the same women ya’ll lust after and run to for fun. Again, excuse me while I process the cognitive dissonance.

Yeah, I know...you’re going to say those aren’t the women that you want to take home to mama. Well, why are you taking them to bed? Why are you blowing your money on them when you can settle down with what society considers “a respectable woman”? (By the way, what’s a respectable woman anyway? Men have sought to put women in “their place” by putting labels on them for centuries now by calling them “hoe”, “whore”, etc.)

It’s not fair that you condemn women for their choices when you worship those same women that you demean (even if it’s only for lust). Don’t get it twisted. Your daughter will notice the dissonance between your words and your actions…the same way she will notice how society talks out of both corners of its mouth by talking up sex, yet making people feel ashamed to engage in it at the same time.

You see it all the time when men say they want a good girl but turn around and shower the bad ones with money and gifts. Yes, I know…you’re saying, it’s okay for “those girls” to do it but “not my daughter.” No one wants their daughter to grow up to be a stripper or a prostitute. Well, why don’t you lead by example and show her the woman she should be rather than talking out of both sides of your mouth? I don’t mean to be harsh, but I’m tired of society being hypocrites. The only way we can change things is by addressing it.

Well, I guess it’s time for me to step off my soapbox now. I wish you and your family the best. And I truly hope your daughter doesn't end up on the pole.

Signed,
TC