MIC LIFE MONDAYS presents — Up Close and Personal with JONATHAN GILMORE

A few years back I used to work on a little local publication called “Mic Life Magazine”. It covered what we called at that time the “urban microphone culture scene”, spotlighting anyone doing cool, interesting, entertaining things with a microphone. I got to do a lot of interviews, talking to local artists and national acts like Dwele, Raheem DeVaughn, and Kindred The Family Soul. It was a cool magazine to work for, and I was sorry to see it go.

“Mic Life” gave me an opportunity to interview local artists and give them some shine alongside the national performers, which I always enjoyed doing. Since I have a decent number of blog readers now, I decided to bring it back in a small way by doing an interview in my blog once a week and calling it “Mic Life Mondays”. So…here is the first “Mic Life Mondays”, with my first feature – JONATHAN GILMORE!

I first heard Jonathan Gilmore’s voice at the now defunct Organic Soul Tuesdays when it was at Eden’s Lounge. I was there to meet up with various artist colleagues and friends to discuss some projects we were working on, and truthfully I wasn’t paying much mind to the open mic performers. As I scrolled through my phone to check my messages, suddenly an amazing soulful voice giving life to Porgy and Bess’s classic “Summertime” broke though my work-fueled haze, causing me to look up onstage to see a brown skinned, stockily-built young man, mouth open wide, eyes closed tightly. My jaw dropped, and as he completed the song and left the stage, I found myself shocked. I got up to find the young man, but he was gone. Asking around did finally give me his name, and a bit about his esteemed lineage – he was the son of Lea Gilmore, who was a creative force of nature as a singer, actress and activist. I went home and began my research, finding myself falling deeply in love with his talent as I watched You Tube clips one after another. And as fate would have it, a few days later I got a call from my good friend/singer/songwriter Ama Chandra, inviting me over to dinner. She mentioned that Jonathan was going to join us and we were going to cook up a big ole’ dinner, sit around, drink and talk. I was down, and a few hours later I was at her door, pot of shrimp gumbo in hand as my contribution. Shortly after Jonathan appeared, and he quickly commandeered Ama’s kitchen. And he clearly was familiar with moving around the stove. Pots and pans created magic at his touch, and a couple of hours later I was eating some of the best fried chicken I have ever had in my life, laughing hysterically at his hilariously vulgar mouth and admiring his thoughtful nature and his depth of talent. I booked him for a show I was producing on the spot, and I have been totally hooked on him ever since. And not only is he ferociously talented, he is equally humble, and his humility continues to be one of the things I most admire about him. In spite of all that he has accomplished, including numerous local performances at all kinds of venues, including performances at Creative Alliance with Navasha Daya, formerly of Fertile Ground, he truly values every person who has done anything, great or small to support him.

So when I decided to add “Mic Life Mondays” to my blog, I immediately thought of him. The original “Mic Life Magazine” was intended to highlight performance artists who utilized the microphone in innovative and skillful ways, and he definitely fits the bill. Mic Life also always sought to spotlight artists who typically didn’t get the shine they deserved, and again, Jonathan Gilmore fits that bill as well. So it was a no-brainer to ask him to be my first artist spotlight on “Mic Life Mondays”.

But first things first…let me let you get familiar with Mr. Gilmore’s music:

 

Now, I’ll let you get familiar with HIM!

Tula:    Let’s get this out the way first: your full name, DOB/zodiac sign, age.

JG:       Jonathan David Gilmore, June 20 1984, Gemini, 28.

Tula:    Do you have brothers/sisters/wife/ex wife/baby momma/kids/dogs/cats/fish? Who is your family?

JG:       I have one brother, two parents. (It sounds like pets, right?). I have a huuuuuuge family. I am very lucky that I got to know just about all my great grandparents. I have a lot of close fam that I’m still meeting. It’s a beautiful thing. I hope one day to have a house big enough so we can get together all the time.

Jonathan, Senior Prom – 2002

Tula:    Were you born in Baltimore? Tell me a bit about where/how you were raised.

JG:       I was born in Baltimore at Maryland General Hospital. I was raised in a two parent home…young parents. My mother was 18 and my father was 22 when I was born. They were a trip! They were very much parents — there was no blurry line with that. Me and my brother are six years apart and its like he was had to different parents. He had the older calmer set, but I had the young and tripped out version. It was cool though. I was raised around a lot of music, spontaneity, and a lot of love. I grew up in northeast Baltimore off Old York and 43rd Street. It was like many Baltimore areas — that mix of quiet and hood. My street was kinda of old school because everybody knew everybody and people’s parents were quick to pull you up if they caught acting up. My street looked like the movie “Crooklyn”; kids were everywhere!!! I don’t have a biological sister, but on this street God gave me one. I met Jada when I was 3 years old, and she has been my sister every since. We fought, ran the streets, she is/was a godsend for me because I was shy and she made me open up, fight back, do some crazy shit…

Tula:    Tell me about your mom (for those who don’t know), and her role in how you got into music.

JG:       My momma! She is Lea Gilmore, an activist, singer, actress, mother, wife, etc. When I was little sometimes babysitters were hard to find and I would have to go to work and school (she was going to Morgan at the time) with her. I was immersed in the Baltimore art world!!! She was heavily doing musical theater and waiting tables. My mother made sure I was busy and was nuts about how I spoke, walked, carried myself. (Her son was not going to be a thug!) I was enrolled in every arts program in Baltimore! Brighter Starts knew me very well and clear through high school I was busy working on either fine arts, music, or writing. My mother introduced to me some great very eclectic music. She introduced me to A Tribe Called Quest, Wu Tang, Fugees, Public Enemy, Brand New Heavies, Prince, (she is an uber fan), Tracy Chapman, Terrence Trent D’Arby — she was a young mother late eighties nineties you know. She taught me that I don’t have to be just one thing. I can do many things. I know I have made many decisions she would like to either undo or would have made for me, but my journey has been a crazy one and she has never left my side…great mother!!!

Lea Gilmore

Tula:    When did you first know you could sing well?

JG:       I knew when I was 4 that I loved music and singing. My mother did musical theater and I had to go with her a lot of times, so I knew the songs and script before she did. I knew I could sing when I was 9 years old and I was singing along to a Whitney Houston song. Then I was at camp and they wanted me to sing “Tomorrow” by Tevin Campbell. I did and it scared the shit out of me!!! It was weird! I knew I wanted sing when I first heard Jerrita Davis at Mount Hope Baptist Church (my church home) sing! Wow! I had never heard any one in my age group sing like that! To this day she still kills (she is more of that extended fam that Black people take on). My parents did not know I could sing for a long time. I just did not tell them I wanted to do it. I regret it now because of my shyness (fear) I missed a lot of great opportunities. I thought that I was supposed to pick a career that made everyone else happy and lived up to the potential everyone saw in me. Wrong move! My grandmother two days before she passed (rather suddenly) told me to be comfortable being me. (I did not think of that moment ‘til right now.) It’s like she knew that I was struggling inside at that time. The first time people really heard me sing was at her funeral…

Tula:    What’s your day job? How did you get into that kind of work?

JG:       I work with kids on the autism spectrum. It is a great job. I love working with kids and it also helps while I’m in school. This job found me and I’m glad it did!

Tula:    Tell me something most people don’t know about you that they would be shocked to know.

JG:       I am a walking contradiction. I’m shy, but loud. I cuss a lot…like a lot. I am who I am! I am much more content sitting around a kitchen table than being in a club.

Tula:    What other talents do you have?

JG:       Your boy can throw down in a kitchen!!! I’m a pretty good writer, great kisser (wink, wink). Hopefully the next talent you will see is my Martin Luther King

Tula:    Tell me about your first performance.

JG:       My first professional solo performance was in 2007. Before that I had done a lot of musical theater but it was a blues show, and it was something else.

Tula:    Tell me about your best performance, and your worst performance.

JG:       My best performance? I am still reaching for that moment I can say that was the shit….my worst performance was at Terra Cafe! Oh my God it was bad and it’s recorded for the world to see on You Tube! I used a friend’s brother and his college friends as a band…the drummer was good but the guitarist got lost and my back up was so off it sound like two cats fighting. All you could do was have fun after a while

Tula:    Do you have a ritual before you go onstage?

JG:       No. I’m really quiet before I go up. I’m conserving energy, talking to God you know, working out the nerves!

Tula:    What do you love about the Baltimore performing arts scene? What do you hate about it?

JG:       The Baltimore art scene is like Baltimore itself. It’s just a small town. It’s amazing getting to know everyone and feeling a part [of it]. I knew I was official was one, when James Collins (formerly of Fertile Ground) asked me to be an Organic Soul All-Star at Afram and two, when OOH (of Brown F.I.S.H.) was like “we see you”….great moments! What I dislike is the lack of performance space and the sometime cliquish vibe you can get. I think we need to all work together put B-more on the map. Reciprocity and helping each other!!!

Tula:    Name a few of your favorite local artists and why you like them.

JG:       Ama Chandra: what a spirit! J Soul: the brotha is baaaaaad (good bad)! Marc Evans: great spirit and can siiiing! Femi The DriFish and Native Son: gets no better; Chris Featherstone: probably one of my favorites hands down. Therron Fowler, Kissi B. (woooooooooo), Brown F.I.S.H., E the Poet Emcee, you, Kane Mayfield, Ab-Rock, Sean, Jamma One, Navasha, April Sampe, Mocha! Good Lord there are so many I wish we could do a big Wattstax like concert in Baltimore — our own block party to save our streets…lets talk about how my city is trying to incarcerate and displace my people – let’s sing about that!

Jonathan with Kane Mayfield

Jonathan with Navasha Daya

Tula:    Who and/or what inspires you?

JG:       Love and creation inspire me. Sounds cliché but we are called to love and reflect the light of the creator who has given us power to create

Tula:    What projects are you working on? Are you recording a CD/working on your own live show…?

JG:       Always working on my live shows. I want to record badly, but I want the songs and everything to be perfect! I don’t want a half ass project. I’m talking with a wonderful producer from Baltimore who everybody is using and he does great work hopefully we can work together…I know the type of artist I want to be and I’m not gonna bend. If I want to original I will, if I want to sing Gershwin I will, if I want to folk/bluegrass so shall it be.

Tula:    Who do you want to work with locally AND nationally?

JG:       I want to work with everybody in B-more!!! Nationally I would love to work with John Legend. He has a great musicality that just speaks to my ears. There are so many I just want to be a part of.

Tula:    What do you want to accomplish in the next 6 weeks, 6 months, and 3 years?

JG:       CD, school, relationship, tours, move, kids

Tula:    Ya wanna make any comments about your love life? (smile)

JG:       That I’m tired of crazy. Real tired. I am looking for a real cool woman.

Tula:    You wanna elaborate on that cool woman thing?

JG:       Over this past year I have seen dudes and myself have to deal with girls. By girls I mean that emotional manipulative, constantly need to be fed into, crazed energy. I want a woman that at least knows what she doesn’t want…a woman that rolls with bad days and is fully secure. If I say it, I mean it, and you should believe it. I am not that dude to call and check in text good morning beautiful and all that other lame shit. I want you to be able to stand on your own. I want her to already be a complete person. I want her to smell good. I want her to be quirky and a revolutionary. I want her to love kids. I want her to have her own life and friends. I have been with some wild women, and they have all been a learning lesson. I recently broke up with a young lady and we had many, many things happen to us but I learned a lot (I’m rambling!)

BUT if I was to have a perfect woman and tag her with a song def it would be Prince “She Loves Me For Me!” Listen to the words! That’s what i want! I promise when I meet her i will sing this song to her:

http://www.vbox7.com/play:246774a4

Tula:    What happens next for you?

JG:       I’m working on a documentary about trying to make the next step. I’m working with Kevin Salter on that. I’m teaching a class this summer on Black Culture at McDaniel College. I hope to really get a CD going before the year is out…and dream big!

Thanks for checking out this first edition of MIC LIFE MONDAYS!

Much love,

Tula

The Cougar Chronicles: Tales From The Front Lines (Part 2) – The Loss of Sensibility

The biggest challenge I have faced in my circumstantial cougar dating (my man says the fact that I don’t pursue younger men makes me a cougar purely by circumstance and on a technicality, so I’m going to call myself a circumstantial cougar, or a situational cougar. I think he just says that so I won’t call him my cub!) is the whole impracticality of it all. That has been a huge obstacle for me, and I’ll explain why here.

Cougar prowling…

I am a practical person at my core. I am naturally always thinking of what makes the most sense, what would be most effective or efficient no matter what I’m doing. I’m always planning for the realities of situations. Lots of things that have happened in my life have forced me to embrace my practical nature, from having to raise two kids on my own (including one with special needs) to having to support all of us on a freelance writer/professional artist’s salary (And trust me, I am the first to laugh out loud as I call what I earn for my art a “salary”!) I’ve always had to make choices that didn’t allow much room for hoping, wishing, and dreaming. That is not to say I don’t have hopes, wishes, and dreams, but those things always seemed indulgent to me, like luxuries I simply could not afford. How could I take time away from my very demanding, very intense real life, and all the people in it who truly needed me to be reliable and dependable to fantasize about things that couldn’t positively impact my current situation?

This is fun. May not be practical though…

So, as a practical woman, as far as my serious dating life goes, I know I should attempt to select men who could be potential husbands and positive role models for my kids. Since my children are adults they really don’t need the kind of hands-on, day-to-day care that smaller children do, he still would need to be a man who could develop and foster good, solid, positive adult relationships with them. This would be especially challenging with my son, who struggles with socializing due to his autism AND is very territorial and possessive of me. I need a man who can appreciate where I am in life as an older woman. I need him to be able to handle the level of independence I have because of how I’ve had to live my life, but still will realize his important role in my life – he knows I still need him. I need a man who will appreciate my very secret highly domesticated behavior from being a great cook (I even make soups and bake cakes entirely from scratch including the icing) to constantly organizing and placing things where they should be. I need a man who can appreciate my life’s journey. I need him to be able to discuss the things I love with me – music, literature, art, etc. All of these things would tend to point to a man in my age range, practically speaking. Additionally, I am no longer a young woman. Again, being practical, at the bare minimum half of my life has passed. I don’t have all the time in the world here. If I truly am seeking to experience marriage before I leave this Earth, I don’t have time to date frivolously. I have to take my serious dating life seriously. I don’t have time for jump offs and friends with benefits and things that tend to have the added complication of not being unclear and not intended for anything resembling permanence. When I was in my 20s, I could go out to dinner or drinks or to a party with a guy and just have a good time and enjoy his company without always thinking he was a potential candidate for something long term. I could date for fun. At this point the fun is clearly over because I’m up against the clock. (Luckily I’ve already had kids so it’s not a biological one.) I’m a fully grown ass woman, so game time is over. It’s been over for a while. At this point if I’m going to spend time with him he has to be someone I could marry in the foreseeable future.

Fun. Not practical so much…

With all this in mind, dating a younger man seems to be one of the biggest wastes of time I could indulge in at this time. He can’t understand the roads I’ve travelled because he’s just starting to journey down those roads. He’s not looking to settle down, because he’s a young man after all, and if he is, it certainly wouldn’t be with me. And there is so much in our social lexicon that clearly sees the older woman/younger man dynamic as a rite of passage that helps a male fully transition into manly adulthood – and much of that transitioning is about sexual prowess. Movies like “The Graduate” “Bull Durham”, “How Stella Got Her Groove Back” and “The Inkwell” depict this interaction. An older woman for a young man is meant to season his abilities sexually, to broaden and widen his vision and scope in that area in particular. She may also to bring him an air of sophistication – as a woman who has seen life and can offer her gracefully seasoned wisdom. She knows about wine and nice restaurants and beautiful vacations spots and such. All my male friends have fond memories of at least one older woman they were involved with, and truth be told a lot of those memories surround sexual experiences they had with him. In all fairness, they genuinely cared for these women, and a few even sought to make those relationships permanent. But generally speaking the older woman/younger man scenario is meant to develop the young man and re-awaken the older woman. It definitely isn’t meant to lead to marriage. That is what age appropriate men are for.

                                                          

Dating this younger man flies in the face of all my practicality. He’s not someone from a practical standpoint that I can marry. He’s too young and too inexperienced at life. He is yet to be fully established in his career, and not quite as financially stable as he’d like to be. My proper role in this is to offer sexual/lifestyle seasoning, and his is to give me a few kicks, some good times, and a hot young thing to look at. And, if I’m the type of woman who enjoys making other women jealous, my boy toy is supposed to make me look like some kind of amazing-in-the-bed kind of Wonder Woman who can pull and keep the interest of a younger man. I am supposed to modestly refer to our amazing sex life and be inwardly tickled at the envious fury that rages inside them.

But as I originally stated, I don’t do IMPRACTICAL. Maybe it’s the Virgo in me, but its hard for me to totally cut loose in many aspects of my life. But strangely enough I am also a bit impulsive, so if I do make a decision to be impractical, I go HARD and I am fully committed to the impractically. I work as hard at it as I do everything I commit to. But being this situational cougar that I am, dating this younger man has at times made me feel bad, like I was shirking my responsibility (to whom or what I’m not sure) to be reasonable and date like I got some sense.

Luckily for me, I really do feel like life is intended to be adventurous to a great degree. But my adventurousness had primarily been my creative self. Now I’ve had to apply my adventurous spirit to my dating life, at a stage in my life when there is still a part of me begging me to stop being as wild as I can be. And my man has made it clear that he is prepared to take us as far as we can go, wherever that may be and however long that may last. And he really does get me – who I am and what I am and why I am – good, bad and everything in between. And that is such a difficult thing for me to come by in any man of any age. Best of all, he knows when to just get out of my way and just let me be, still staying just close enough to be to be there when I need him.

With that, I find that, in spite of my middle age, in spite of the fact that I am a mom, that I should be someone’s role model I guess, in spite of everything I know about where I am in my life and what makes sense as far as me marrying one day goes – in spite of all these things, all of my sensible nature and rational thought is gone, gone with the wind as I lie in the embrace of a younger man, very happy and content and glad to be there. So for now, I will continue being irrational, impractical, unreasonable, silly, ridiculous, insane – and happy.

Until next time, this is your cougar correspondent…

–Tula

The Cougar Chronicles: Tales From The Front Lines

I probably should open this with a disclaimer: according to some folks I’ve talked to, I am not actually a cougar because I do not intentionally seek out the company of younger men as my exclusive preference because of their youth or because of things related to their youth. Actual cougars, from what I am told, want and very openly pursue significantly younger men, and put their time and energy into doing so. They gear their appearance, their social activities, their speech, their actions, etc., to attract youth. I never have done that. But on the other hand, more age-appropriate men have never taken an interest in me for whatever reason. I have never been one to be so hell bent on doing what seems appropriate in terms of my romantic life, so when this particular young man expressed a serious and genuine interest in me, I found I could not really find a reason not to date him. His date of birth just didn’t seem like a good reason to exclude him from my life socially or romantically, so I didn’t. That was nine months ago and we are still seeing each other, and I am slowly coming to terms with the fact that I am now willingly a cougar, at least in the sense that I’m dating a significantly younger man.

Let me start by saying dating someone significantly younger (I will loosely define significantly younger as more than a ten year age difference) has not meant “dating down” in terms of activities. He is not immature in that respect at all. Our dates have been comparable to, and in many cases better than dates I’ve been taken on by men my age. For some reason I guess dating younger men for many women means giving up nice restaurants, good concerts, etc. for the Dollar Menu at McDonalds.  That hasn’t been my experience at all. He has always been exceptionally on point in planning dates for us, right down to picking great venues for our outings. Additionally, he clearly did not just start doing these things or going to these places to impress me or make me happy. They were clearly already things he enjoyed doing and places he enjoyed going. In fact he has taken me to many places and events I have thoroughly enjoyed that I knew nothing about like certain restaurants and shows. So there has been no shift in that area. Our dating has been appropriate, comfortable, and very enjoyable. We are a clearly happy, into each other couple when we are out on our frequent “date nights”.

There also hasn’t been an absence of stimulating conversation. I haven’t had to hide my love of all things related to contemplative thought, discussion and debate. He has willingly and happily joined in, and we have been happily nerdy together. One thing we have in common is a great love of music, and I have always been amazed at how vast his musical catalog is, ranging from classical music to traditional jazz to Afrobeat to house to classic rock to hip hop. He has particularly impressed me with his knowledge of ‘80s music, which I really wouldn’t have expected him to have a frame of reference for based on when he was born. That has been really cool. Because he is a musician (percussion) he’s really helped expand my understanding of music in terms of its creation and construction, which has also been really cool. He enjoys my writing and performing and has been amazingly supportive. He has offered me invaluable constructive criticism that is really helping me expand how I view my artistic endeavors.

I’ve also been fortunate in that he has a very mature, adult sense of style and fashion, which I appreciate and value in the men I’m dating. I’ve observed a lot of young men simply don’t have much style in terms of how they dress beyond ill-fitting jeans, graphic tee-shirts and ugly expensive sneakers. He definitely has a great sense of style with very classic tastes in his attire. I appreciate dating someone that I don’t have to dress when we’re going out – in fact he actually has more pairs of shoes than me.

One adjustment I’ve had to make has been to his energy level. Now before your mind sinks totally into the gutter, let me explain. When I speak of energy, I’m speaking about energy emotionally. He has the energy to emotionally connect to things, whether its happiness or anger or some other emotion that I simply brush off because I’m just too tired or drained in other aspects of my life to deal with it. Or I may make a decision that I just can’t expend my emotional resources on certain things because I have limited resources. He on the other hand has boundless energy emotionally. He actually will take the time to get angry about or upset at all kinds of things. He has a very strong sense of right and wrong, and feels those things very deeply and with a great deal of passion, whether its big things or small things. Now sometimes he does get upset about things that I genuinely feel it would be better to brush off. BUT on the other hand, his appropriate righteous indignation about so many things reminds me of why revolutions are led by the young. Sometimes my unwillingness to give my emotional energy to a thing is really me being jaded, me feeling like there is nothing I can do to help or that my feelings don’t matter. His willingness to expend his emotional energy more freely keeps me from becoming stagnant in my emotions. I find myself more willing to be moved by things, to be touched by things, and more willing to involve my emotions in things that on the surface may seem silly, unimportant or insurmountable. He keeps me from becoming insensitive to life. He on the other hand is learning from me to let some things roll off his back. It is definitely a balancing act for both of us, but we definitely enjoy it and like balancing each other. He reminds me that it’s okay to get mad sometimes, and I remind him that it’s okay to let things go sometimes. Adjusting my energy level has also meant being more willing to be expressive more often. I’m typically the person sitting off to the side in a group setting, listening and observing and taking everything in, not saying much but intently seeing and hearing everything without much comment. His energy leads him to almost always express what he’s thinking, even if it’s not always politically correct or doesn’t sound “proper” to others. He also expresses how he feels with a great deal of passion, and seeing him do that reminds me of when I had that passion. I have rediscovered that passion with him to put energy behind my opinions.

Another adjustment I’ve made is how I see myself. This man truly thinks I am a wonderful person…AND he even finds me physically attractive. That was very hard for me to take seriously at first, because he’s a very good looking, tall, well-built guy. My body and face have definitely seen better days. When I look in the mirror I see my older woman self, no longer as youthful and pretty and innocent as I once was. I see everything that I’ve lost over the years, things I am losing every day as life speeds by me. I see my past, all the roads I’ve travelled to get to today. All he sees is me today. When I joke with him about how he’s going to have to pay for my mommy makeover he laughs and says he will but doesn’t think I need it. He thinks I am beautiful. He doesn’t see all my burdens and baggage. He sees me as fresh and new, in spite of the fact that I clearly am not. And while I’m not prepared to delude myself into thinking I’m a young girl, he does remind me that I do still have a significant amount of living to do, and that I haven’t gone totally to pot like I feel I have sometimes. He has helped me be less hard on myself, less harshly critical of how life has beat me up and left me battered and bruised. He truly sees me as nothing more than a woman he loves, respects, admires and trusts, and it is very important for me to have someone in my life to balance me out, to balance my tendency to be very hard on myself all the time and call it being realistic.

I’ve definitely had to adjust to how we look to others. Truthfully, I am closer in age to his parents that I am to him. There have been times when I’ve been mistaken for his mother – while I look fairly young for my age so does he, so the “black don’t crack” thing takes its toll on both of us. He fully embraces public displays of affection, so he has no qualms about kissing me in public or holding my hand, and he genuinely seems oblivious to the looks we get sometimes.  I’ve had to get used to how me dating him makes me seem “immature” – I even jokingly started writing a poem called “My Mid Life Crisis” which goes:

He is my mid life crisis.

He’s my red sports car.

He’s the huge loud Harley Davidson

that I can’t ride too far

because I don’t quite know how to drive it.

So I ride him instead.

Ride him so I won’t feel dead.

My mid life crisis.

The reflection of youth I no longer see in the mirror.

The reflection of truth I no longer want to be clearer.

I want it blurry and out of focus.

And since I’m running out of time

I’ve decide I’ll live what I have left way out of line

by living out my mid life crisis.

He’s the mommy makeover I can’t afford.

The ultimate ego stroking at a time when

I’m lucky to have the strength to stroke anything.

He’s the temporary anecdote to my life

that has become way too full of experiences

for my liking…

Experiences that are starting to show on my face

and every other place.

But my DNA and gene pool is not a game,

and since even pale black don’t crack

I “look good for my age” and

“still could get it though”

I had a mid life crisis.

And it is him.

Let me now get to what you probably really want to know about – the sex.

I was a bit uncomfortable the first time we were intimate, primarily because I didn’t see it coming. That meant I wasn’t as prepared as I would have like to have been. I didn’t wear my “cute” underwear that night. I hadn’t thought I’d be out all night long. When he invited me into his apartment, I was a bit surprised but I still didn’t think anything sexual was going to take place. I was wrong. He definitely has a tremendous amount of stamina (there I said it…you happy?) I am also happy to report that, unlike many younger man, he actually has…ummm…very sophisticated…techniques that one typically find in older, more experienced men. He definitely was attentive to what I wanted and needed, and had a deep generosity and unselfishness in bed that impressed me tremendously. As a younger man he does bring an enthusiasm to sex that is refreshing and makes things I’ve done many times in my past seem new and different. I’ve had to get used to the increased energy levels there, but I have done that willingly. I do appreciate that he doesn’t need quite as much sleep as some of my older previous lovers (particularly my most recent one), and he has no problem with staying up all night and going to work the next day without complaint, tired, yawning and happy. He says that when it comes to sexual things as far as he’s concerned I’m 25 years old, which I do appreciate him saying, though I’m not entirely sure it is true. (But another adjustment I’ve had to learn to make is not second guessing his opinions.) But the sex definitely has a more energetic quality to it – maybe it’s just because I’m glad to have survived the previous time. (Hey, he’s a big dude – I really have to pack a lunch when I’m handling my business with him because I’m going to be gone for a while.)

 

Slowly I am coming to terms with my cougar-ness. Its kind of strange, but like most of the titles I’ve ended up with in my life, it has its grains of truth in it so I can’t be mad. I don’t really feel like attracting a much younger man is an accomplishment like many women my age seem to feel it is. It wasn’t something I set out to do, and its not like I got a prize for doing it. He was just the man that I was interested in at this time, and he was interested in me, so we went ahead with it. I’m not foolish enough to say age is nothing but a number, because age is definitely more than that in my opinion. And while some folks may feel 40 is the new 30 and 30 is the new 20, I ain’t buying that bull crap. 40 is 40, but 40 can be whatever the person wants it to be. Same thing for 30, and 20. We all have choices we can make that affect who we are and how we are at any age, from maintaining healthy diets to exercising to going out and being social and staying active to being open to whoever comes into our lives willing to love us and be with us. That’s what I have done, and while I don’t think it makes me younger chronologically, I do think it keeps me alive and full of life, heart and spirit. And that’s important, no matter where you are in life.

Until next time, this is your cougar correspondent,

–Tula

Creative me…

For those of you that pay attention to what I do, you may have noticed that I’ve been doing more burlesque stuff lately. In fact my last few performances have been at burlesque shows, including a performance at a Tilted Torch showcase in DC and performing in The Newcomer’s Showcase/The Sideshow Ball at The Great Burlesque Exposition in Massachusetts. Both shows were a lot of fun. The ladies and gents I’ve met have more creativity and energy than many other artists I’ve come across in my travels, and I have tremendous respect for all their creative energy. Being around them has really challenged me to step out of the box in many respects, especially my writing and my conceptualizing pieces. Many of the burlesque performers I’ve met have incredible wit and sarcasm, which I greatly appreciate, and they’ve all been very welcoming of me and what I do with my erotic poetry. In fact it is because they have been so welcoming that I’m going to continue to pursue performance opportunities in burlesque.

(Me getting ready backstage @ The Great Burlesque Expo – The Newcomers Ball in Massachusetts)

Finding a place for what I do as a performance poet has always been challenging. I have never considered myself a spoken word poet for various reasons, primarily because my writing style and my performance style don’t quite fit what spoken word seems to look like. I don’t have a problem with that. What I do, for the most part, is not what a lot of spoken word audiences are interested in from female poets, and I’m cool with that. In marketing terms, my brand is different from the things most spoken word poetry shows seek to embody. Additionally, my style doesn’t offer a lot of smoke and mirrors. By that I mean I tend to be rather plain spoken in my poetry as in my other types of writing. Spoken word tends to thrive on a lot of wordplay of all kinds (at times to excess in my opinion). That’s just not my style. I believe the power of spoken word exists in simplicity and clarity, and my approach to poetry is what I call “deep thoughts in plain brown wrappers”. Plus you must factor in that I cuss and occasionally use what some would consider vulgar language in my performing, which seems to be something that spoken word tends to shy away from, especially from female poets, unless the artist is extremely well established. Additionally, I have kind of travelled on my own path in this thing, and that’s how I’ve conducted a lot of my artistic pursuits. I never really followed any of the “rules” that seem to exist about spoken word poetry regarding the venues you need to attend and the people you need to admire and the poets you needed to sound like and/or befriend. I don’t do that to slight anyone or to be arrogant, but that’s how I’ve always approached everything I’ve done – on my own terms and in my own way, however the spirit moves me. My getting up onstage initially was because I was tired of not hearing my voice there amongst any of the voices I heard, and not seeing someone like me there – someone kind of ordinary, very plain spoken, a bit wild, a bit odd, a bit crazy, someone who is down to earth but not so caught up in her own “earthiness”. When I’m onstage I’m telling stories about myself, my life, my experiences, and people, especially women, see themselves in my stories. What I do onstage is just different, and it’s not everyone’s cup of tea. Again, that’s cool.

To book shows you have to be out and about, to be seen and to network. My schedule and my money really don’t allow me to get out to a lot of events to be seen and network. I really have to pick and choose what I can get to. First I have to find the time to go to an event, which can be really challenging sometimes. Then I have to select the events I genuinely want to see depending on the event and who is performing. I make a point to try to go to the events where my artistic friends and colleagues are performing whom I want to support…and that in and of itself is A LOT because most of my friends are artists. After all that there isn’t much time left. I can’t get to as many things as I’d like to get to. Right now I cannot say when I last went to an open mic; at this point I just don’t have the time to get out to them, and I tend to save up for events instead of actively attending a weekly venue. Occasionally I’ll have a free night and a few dollars and I’ll pop up somewhere, but that isn’t often. The downside of this is that I know being seen on the scene is part of people being aware of you as a performer, and lots of people simply aren’t aware of me as a performer because they don’t see me out much. As a result they don’t think to ask me to perform. In other cases their awareness of me is that I do this hypersexual (dirty) performance that they don’t think will suit their audiences. And I freely admit I swear and make sexual references and present mature topics in my work. I know some people are opposed to that, and again, that’s cool. They’ll eventually end up where I am, trust me. In fact I’ve seen lots of poets who gave me the side eye the first time they heard me do “Sex Shoes” end up in erotic poetry shows or doing their versions of erotica. It’s just a matter of time before they come out onstage in a corset.

(The next corset I want to get. Ladies, please TREAT YOURSELF to a nice corset when you get a chance…just trust me! Hit me up if you want recommendations on where to get one!)

What all this means for me is that as a performance poet I get invited to perform at shows for audiences who don’t particularly love spoken word and have never heard of any of the spoken word poets I’ve listened to for years, but who like my approach to my chosen subject matter, sex and sexuality and relationship-focused subjects, and they find me entertaining. I actually am very flattered by that, and I love the challenge these shows present. I have to sell them on what I do AND my way of doing it. I have never had the luxury of performing for audiences full of unilateral co-signors (not to my knowledge anyway), which means I always have to be exceptionally on point when onstage. Even in seeking performance opportunities, I’ve almost always had to prove myself and my ability as a performer. I’ve gone to promoters and bookers and people offering performance opportunities COLD, presenting myself to people who have never heard of me, and I’ve always had to win over whoever I wanted to give me a shot because of the nature of what I do. When I get onstage I’ve often had to convince the audience to feel me and what I do — and I’m always successful. In fact as I’ve done this I’ve discovered how many people really don’t care for spoken word – they find it preachy and boring and a bunch of other things. I don’t object to their opinions of course, but as a person who enjoys spoken word it has been good for me to get outside that bubble and face people who don’t like it, and hear their reasons why they don’t like it.

(Me performing @ Tatu at the “RAW Artists Showcase” — Clearly not your momma’s spoken word poetry.)

Marching to my own drummer is the hallmark of my writing and performing. I’ve tried a lot of different things just for the sake of trying them. I’ve never felt the need to be any particular kind of writer or performer. Yes there are the things I enjoy most, that I’m especially good at or that I’ve gained the most notoriety for, but that has never stopped me from doing other things. As a result I’ve performed everywhere from Winter Music Conference parties (performing to performance tracks while people dance)

Me @ Winter Music Conference, 2009

to poetry events (UrbanerotiKa at NYC’s Bowery Poetry Club, Punany Poets shows at the DC Arts Center and similar shows) to musical/variety shows (shows I’ve done locally at The Creative Alliance or shows I’ve been in with other artists friends  around Baltimore).The Punany Poets – December 2007 @ The DC Arts Center

Me at UrbanErotiKa @ The Bowery Poetry Club, NYC 

Me and Ama Chandra @ The Baltimore Crown Awards, November 2012

While variety is good in many respects, the downside is that I haven’t really focused my energy on one thing artistically. I’ve done everything from recording to writing to performing, and had some measure of success in all those things, but I’ve never been super focused on one, which I really think is part of the reason why I’ve only been marginally successful (by my standards). The focus on a single thing just hasn’t been there, and I know that’s vital to accomplishing something in a significant way. I think I’m talented enough and smart enough and knowledgeable enough and a hard enough worker. BUT the laser focus on one thing hasn’t been there for me. I’ve always been pulled a lot of different directions because I’m good at a lot of different things. I’ve done everything from marketing to booking gigs to writing to performing. While my original plan was to write, I ended up recording instead. The first CD I recorded was originally meant to be a promotional CD meant to accompany a book of poetry I was planning to publish, but a producer read my work and said I could probably record my poetry and sell it. So we recorded 12 poems, and one of them, “Sex Shoes”, ended up getting released as a single and had some success. That lead to performing and other things, but I never got back to the writing, which is where I was originally trying to go when I got sidetracked. I know I really need to get laser focused on one particular artistic pursuit and really get into it to the exclusion of everything else. But picking one thing is going to be difficult because I enjoy a lot of different things and I’m good at a lot of different things. But scattering my energies will continue to scatter my success. So I need to focus so I can have greater success.

I don’t know if burlesque is going to be that laser focus thing for me. But it is definitely something I’m interested in. I love the things modern burlesque – neo burlesque as it is called – brings together. In burlesque audiences I have found the greatest appreciation for my quirky sense of humor, the weird combination of smarts and sex that I bring to my stage work. I’m even considering taking up a stage name for my burlesque performing. Though there is a part of me that is opposed to a stage name, the more I get into performing the more I understand the purpose a stage name serves. I am starting to understand the idea that the woman I am onstage, while she is a turned up exaggerated extension of me, is still very far removed from who I am in my day to day. She deserves her own name. Plus, as I continue my dogged determination to try to express EVERY aspect of who I am, no matter how contradictory those aspects are (example: while performing in burlesque shows my next recorded release will be an inspirational house music track called “Hear My Prayer”. Let me quote Walt Whitman here by saying “Do I contradict myself? / Very well then I contradict myself, / (I am large, I contain multitudes.”), it would be easier for me to identify those aspects if I give them different names. It seems like self-induced schizophrenia I know, but giving my stage persona a different name I think will help me push her further along, will help me become better at taking chances in my performance because I won’t feel like its me doing it. I understand how confusing this is to my audiences, though it makes sense to me. It even makes sense to other people when I explain that I don’t want to be limited to my sensual side, or my intellectual side, or my raunchy side, or my spiritual side in any aspect of my work, but I also get that people need to put labels on things and put things in boxes. If I write a piece called “Sex Shoes”, I can’t write a piece called “Hear My Prayer”, because those two topics are so diametrically opposed, although both of those things truly and genuinely live in me side by side, and in most people. I embrace my contradictions, and even question if they are actually contradictions. But that’s a lot for the general public to grasp. I have to trick the public into really thinking and really contemplating something – you have to draw them in by making things seem simple and purely enjoyable on the surface. Once you get them in, you hit them with deeper meaning and cause them to think. Giving myself a separate stage name for my more sensual work and using my government name for my other work is what I’m probably going to do. From a public relations/promotional perspective I know a NAME CHANGE is one of the worst things an artist can do, and extremely difficult to accomplish. It is very confusing and difficult. But since my government name is difficult to remember anyway, and I’m not particularly well known enough (yet) for people to have attached my image to my name, if I’m going to take on a stage name this is the best time to do it – while I’m still relatively unknown except in some local circles. What that stage name is going to be I’m not sure – but it will definitely be the name I’m taking into burlesque. I’d like it to in some way include my government name because I’ve used it so long I don’t want to deviate too far from it. But it does need to be simple and catchy and memorable. I’ve got something in mind…so we’ll see what happens.

All in all, my journey through my creative self goes on. I continue to push myself, to push against my insecurities, my weaknesses, my fears until they dissipate. I continue to push against anything that seeks to define me without my consent. I continue to push past the vision of what I should be that others have put in place without consulting me. I push against my biggest issues and insecurities – my abandonment issues and my body image issues and my fear of death. I continue to push against the qualities I have that keep me from being successful. I continue to push against what the world says my life should be like, what my home should be like, what my man should be like, what my love should be like. I continue to push on…not necessarily towards bigger greater success (though I would love that), but bigger greater peace of mind.

Until next time…

The love that makes you weak…and makes you strong.

The past couple of weeks I’ve started a bunch of blog entries about different things (and I’m sure most of them will appear in my blog at some point). I get like that sometimes – I get a bunch of different really good ideas in my head all at once and I start writing about all of them, but I can’t seem to finish any of them. Then something comes along that so strongly grabs me and forces me to listen, to think, and then to write, I find I have no choice but to acknowledge it here in my blog.

I am very happy to say at this time I am in a love relationship. He loves me. I am certain of this though we’ve only been together a few months. I am more certain of his love for me than I’ve been of some men I’ve been with for years. His absolute clarity in this area is one of the things I appreciate the most about him. It has never occurred to him to not demonstrate how he feels about me, in his actions as well as his words. There was never this huge melodrama for him when he first told me how he felt about me – of course he was concerned that I might not feel the same way but once I let him know I did, he has been refreshingly honest and open emotionally. In fact it is with him that I am starting to understand what love is about – about the openness and vulnerability and the level of strength that one must have to achieve the intimacy that is the oxygen that love needs to breathe.

People always talk about how they aren’t going to let people hurt them after they end a love relationship that has gone badly. They build up all these walls, these defenses, these methods of keeping themselves from becoming close to others, and from letting others become close to them. They don’t fully commit to their romantic involvements, standing on the perimeters of their emotions, proud of their ability to balance there endlessly without moving forward. I can’t begin to tell you how many times I hear people boastfully proclaim how no one can “get” them, can take advantage of them, no one can get to their hearts…some even go as far as to say that they can cause others to fall in love with them and get “caught up” in emotions while they remain unmoved and uncaring.

It is only now, in this current relationship, that I am truly coming to understand how those attitudes are a sign of true weakness.

I am taking a huge risk in my current relationship. The man I’ve involved with doesn’t seem suitable for me in many respects. I ended a very serious, difficult, painful involvement with another man before I entered this relationship, and while nearly a year elapsed in between, I have had concerns that perhaps I wasn’t ready for this, or that this might be a rebound situation. I had pretty much given up on experiencing what I have with this man after my last relationship…the last man I was seeing I truly thought was perfect for me, in spite of his many faults, and I really did think we were making good progress towards something more lasting. I felt he was someone who cared deeply for me, who accepted me, who admired me, who wasn’t willing to risk losing me and what we shared. But I was wrong about all of that, so when I ended that relationship, I found myself doubting my judgment, doubting my ability to assess the potential a man had to be in my life long term. I found myself fearful of trusting my instincts, which made me even more highly doubtful about this relationship. Being vulnerable and open and willing to allow him into my most intimate place – my heart – seemed like absolute folly and the height of stupidity initially. It struck me as weakness. A strong person would be able to carry on through life, interacting with others for friendship, for sex, or for whatever, without giving anyone access to their heart…or that’s what I thought.

But now I feel differently.

I am more vulnerable with this man than I’ve been in a very long time. He’s seen me weep, watched me yell, seen me nervous and sad. He’s listen to me rant and rave about everything that bothers me, hurts me, makes me feel unworthy and inadequate and like a failure. He’s seen me looking a hot mess first thing in the morning. He’s kissed my tears when they were falling down my face. I showed him my ugly appendix scar with no shame. And strangely enough, as I totally threw my guard away with him I found myself not feeling weak, but feeling strong. And actually feeling proud of myself.

I am proud of the fact that I have learned to be fearless in love. I am glad I haven’t been fooled into thinking hiding one’s heart and one’s emotions is a sign of power and strength. I have figured out that those who do are truly the weak ones – so afraid of the power someone else may gain over them that they run from the prospect. They don’t trust their ability to maintain their equilibrium even while falling deeply and totally in love. They are so afraid of pain they throw away the possibility of joy. They are so ignorant about hos their own hearts work, they wouldn’t begin to know how to fix them if they got broken. So they encase them in thick slabs of stone and carry around the extra weight of that casing. I am proud that I didn’t fall for the okey doke. I’m glad that, even after all the hurt and pain I’ve suffered at the hands of my choices in love, I realize that you have to commit a thousand percent with no regard for the consequences each and every time for love to stand any chance of working.

I don’t quite know why I feel so brave now. I think its partly because I know no matter what happens in my current relationship, I’ll be okay. Not right away of course. If he were to leave me I would be devastated of course. I’d cry and scream and rant and rave and be absolutely inconsolable – but that would be temporary. If this relationship crashes and burns, I know I’m strong enough to give it a proper burial and move on wherever my life takes me next. I trust my heart resiliency enough finally, and while I don’t mean to hurt my heart, it is not the fragile thing I’ve always thought it was, something I had to protect from all contact with the outside world. Of course I’m careful with my heart, I don’t hand it to folks willy-nilly, BUT I am willing to offer it up fully for the one I love, especially when it is reciprocated. There is absolutely nothing that can happen in this relationship that I’ll ever be ashamed of – EVER. I am prepared for every possible consequence of every possible outcome, and I know I am ready for anything. I have no fear of failure and I am confident in my success. If he cheats on me, if he leaves me for someone else, if he turned out to be an asshole, while all those things would crush me for a time, it will NOT make me feel permanently defeated, or that any of those things are my fault. I am truly giving all of my best self in this relationship, with no regard for what others may think or say, regardless of who thinks it’s a good idea or who thinks it’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. I have finally come to a place in my life where I know there is NOTHING I can’t handle. And that fills me with power, and with pride in my power as a woman, fully realized and developed. There is not a man who can leave me who can crush me for good. There is not a man who can break me and expect me to stay broken. My ashes can rise from any fire anyone sets, or even those I set.

And because I feel so strong now, I am okay with being weak, with being vulnerable, with being soft and dependent. I have re-opened myself with my own power, and he truly loves and appreciate the power and self possession I have, even when it strangely manifests itself in my willingness to let him see all of me, and knowing he will not turn away. I have learned to be confident even in my presentation of my shortcomings, and I have learned to be okay with my imperfection. And I have even learned to expect those who claim to love me to revel in those things alongside me as I seek to improve myself and become better.

My weakness is a sign of my strength.

Who would have thought.

Peace!

Living with the boobs…Part Two

Accepting that my breasts were going to really be a part of who I was as a person was pretty confusing at first. I never thought of myself as particularly attractive when I was young, and certainly not sexy by any means. This was one of the reasons why so much of my focus was always on myself as an intellectual, as a very smart, academically gifted person. I felt this was the area in which I would thrive to the exclusion of everything else. I never felt I could compete (so to speak) with women in the department of looks, or sexiness, or attracting the attention of men in general, so I made a conscious decision to play to what I identified as my strengths – my smarts. So when my breasts took center stage in many of my social interactions, I wasn’t sure what to do with that initially. But fortunately I’ve always been a realist, so I quickly figured out that I had to accept that I had them, that the world in general and men in particular were going to react a certain way to them, and I was going to find a peaceful way for us to coexist. As I moved through my twenties, I came to enjoy my breasts and the attention that they got, usually. I tried to be gentle and appropriate when I used the power they held. I was never one to just go out being scantily clad all the time, but I certainly had no qualms about displaying my cleavage at certain times. I began to incorporate into my view of myself “the girl with the big tits” as well as all of the other things I felt I was. But in spite of the fact that I tried to be moderate in my enjoyment of the power of my breasts, I will admit that I did go overboard at one time in my life.

Right up until my gynecologist found a lump in my left breast.

I remember clearly the day she found it. I was lying on the exam table as she was doing my breast exam and talking to me about self examination. I was telling her I honestly wasn’t doing the self-exams regularly because I never really felt like I knew what I was feeling for and she was saying she would demonstrate for me again what I should do and how, but then she paused mid sentence while examining my breasts. She asked me to raise my arm high over my head, and she continued to examine my breast as I did. She had me adjust my body a couple of times and she continued to examine. She then moved on to completing the exam, but we did not continue the conversation we had been having. As soon as we were done she said to me, “Petula, I found something.”

She went back to my left breast and began manipulating a spot almost underneath my armpit, at the meatiest part of the breast. She had me touch the spot as well, and much to my horror I felt the mass underneath my fingertips. Tears immediately sprang to my eyes and I had to fight to hear her talk. She said something about the fact that I’ve always had cystic breasts but this was something new and different, which was why she was concerned. She also said something about my breast mass, and about my family history, and how based on those things she wanted me to have a mammogram and ultrasound immediately. That did eventually lead to me having two biopies done on the mass she found.

During the 6 weeks I went through this ordeal I told no one, not even my parents about my ordeal. I didn’t tell the man I was dating either. I went to my appointments alone, and worried quietly and in solitude. I thought about the worst case scenarios of course – what would I do if I lost a breast? How would I feel? How would it affect my image of myself, which I had shifted so much to accommodate my breasts and their impact on others? Perhaps I shouldn’t have done that. I spent a lot of time seriously thinking about my breasts, about my low cut dresses, my blouses, my body image, and all those things. I thought about how much I had come to depend on my breasts and what they added to my attractiveness and sensuality as a woman. I pondered how I would find my sensuality, my sexuality minus such a huge part of it.

Fortunately for me the lump was harmless. I was okay. But the gynecologist did recommend that I have mammograms annually based on my medical history, though most women don’t start having mammograms until they are 40. She also insisted that I become diligent with my self-exams, and gave me a detailed step-by-step explanation of what to do, what not to do, and what I should be checking for based on my breast size and tendency to be cystic.

My relationship with my breasts changed after that. I didn’t start hating them or anything like that, but I found I couldn’t take them or their impact on the world seriously anymore. When men would gaze at my cleavage in awe, I found now that I would laugh, thinking of how little they really mattered in the grand scheme of things.

Since those years, I’ve learned to be very comfortable with myself, cleavage included. While I get that there are men who find big breasts attractive, there are lots of other things they find attractive too, and every woman has something, or a couple of somethings that men like. I am glad that I never felt compelled to lean on having big breasts for power, acceptance, love, or whatever. I always knew I had other weapons in my arsenal, though certainly my boobs are in the arsenal. I am glad that I have combined my brains, my body and my boobs into a “braindyoob” that can pretty much handle anything life throws at it. And every woman has to find her combination of weapons to conquer life, love, and whatever else she wants to do. Men do too I guess, though I’m hoping boobs won’t be in their arsenal.

Until next time…

–Tula

 

Me and my boobs — how we all learned to live with each other

So yeah, I have boobs.

The reason my boobs are on my mind right now is because I just had my very FIRST custom-made corset ordered for my performance at The Great Burlesque Expo in Massachusetts at the end of this month (click here for details if you’re in the Boston area the last weekend of this month). I’m looking forward to getting it and trying it on, and of course that really means making sure my boobs look good in the corset.

Like all women, my relationship with my breasts is a bit complicated, though I think I’ve come to terms with my boobs more than many women. I mean, let’s be honest – at this point my boobs are part of my show. They are a highly identifiable part of me as my “real world” self, and me as my “onstage self”. I guess one of the reasons it doesn’t bother me that they are such a highly identifiable part of me is that I know I am much MUCH more than a pair of cute tits. Now of course people who don’t know me don’t know that, but I’m not prepared to take a whole lot of responsibility for what those people know or don’t know, so I don’t stress that. I’m also not particularly worried about being objectified because again, I have absolutely no control over someone who chooses to objectify me. Anyone with half a brain in their head who pays any attention to my work for even a minute or two beyond the visuals quickly realizes I’m much more than boobs, and for those who don’t take that time or don’t have the mental capacity to grasp that…oh well, not my problem. Having such a high level of comfort with my boobs was a hard-won battle, and a battle many women don’t conquer at any time in their lives. As comfortable as I may be today with my girls, trust me it wasn’t always that way.

As a pre-teen and a young teenage girl I was a tomboy. I had been a total daddy’s girl growing up, watching boxing matches and football games and “Wide World of Sports” on Saturday afternoons and listening to Yankees’ games on the radio as we’d sit on our porch in New Jersey on hot summer nights. I was comfortable with my dad, and loved the time we spent together enjoying sports. When we moved to Baltimore, I found myself naturally drawn to boys – not in the “I want a boyfriend” or a sexual way at all, but in a very organic, “they like the same things I like” kind of way. I had a comfort with them. These boys knew plenty of other girls that they thought of in a more sexualized kind of way, but I was just “Petula”…not a boy exactly, but not quite a girl either. I liked sports and would run up and down the streets and alleys as fast as I could, playing endless games of tag and kick the can. We even played football on an empty lot up the street from my house. I truly enjoyed my male friends, right up until the day I woke up with breasts.

I’m telling you, that’s exactly how it happened. I woke up one summer day and found I was a 36C cup. When I had gone to bed the night before there were no breasts – well, little buds sure but nothing to get worked up about (I actually used to stuff my training bras from time to time back in those days because I had a crush on a boy who LOVED the early developing girls in our 7^th grade class). Suddenly I was a rather full, endowed young girl with a fairly respectable rack precariously topping my broad-shouldered frame

For some reason I wasn’t expecting the breasts to impact my relationships with my male friends. They were all quite taken aback at my “growth spurt”, staring rather pointedly at my new cleavage, looking shocked and amused. But none of them said anything to me about it at first – I honestly think they were shocked to be faced with the female-ness of someone they really hadn’t viewed that way. Our more athletic activities became confusing as sexual overtones and hormones began kicking in. I slowly became dimly aware of the changing dynamic between me and my male friends, but for the most part I maintained a pretty high level of obliviousness. I was especially oblivious to the fact that my training bras simply were not appropriate anymore. I needed a real bra. But I didn’t realize how pressing the need was until one day my sister came to visit us (she lived in New Jersey), and when she saw me and my titties bobbling about basically unrestricted as I ran up and down the street with the boys she yelled at me, “Tula, get in here.  What’s wrong with you?” She really seemed to think I was trying to be “sexy” for the boys, but I honestly wasn’t. I really didn’t understand why anything had to change just because I had breasts. She discussed the situation with my mom (who had noticed, but I think she simply wanted to ignore the situation), and she took me to Hecht’s, had me measured (it was official – I was a 36C cup), and brought me several bras. Both she and my mom fussed at me for running around with those “fast-ass” boys with my breasts hanging out and insisted that I wear the new bras all the time. The funny thing is that while I’d always wanted bigger breasts back in the days when I stuffed my little bras, now that I had them I really wasn’t enjoying them. I didn’t like all the negative attention I was getting. I didn’t like the way my mom and sister had automatically assumed I was doing something wrong or being bad because I hadn’t been wearing a bra around the boys. They automatically thought I was being “fast” and acting “slutty”. Neither of them seemed to consider that I really didn’t understand what had happened to me.

The new bras seemed to draw more attention from my male friends than my new breasts did. They saw the straps peeking out from the tops of my tee shirts and tank tops, and that’s when the teasing really began. The presence of the bras along with the breasts was when the teasing really started. I definitely noticed them staring at my breasts which caused me to notice the shift in how they treated me – I suddenly became more like a girl than I had previously, and I noticed something akin to condescension in how they acted towards me at times. Suddenly their interest in playing our games and talking about sports and such with me waned a bit. They acted as if all of the things they had enjoyed doing with me previously had to disappear, and now they had to spend time pursuing me sexually or reminding me that because I had breasts and needed a real bra they had an obligation to try to cop a feel. They never did strangely enough, but they joked about it constantly. Unfortunately, the older men in my neighborhood were another matter. While my male friends seemed to try to maintain some level of respectability in dealing with my breasts even amidst their teasing, the older men who had literally seen me grow up from a little girl began openly leering at me, staring at me as I walked by, speaking to me and offering me rides to school and such. A couple would stop me in the middle of the sidewalk to engage me in asinine conversation, staring at my chest and drooling. It was awful and frightening, and those experiences quickly taught me I needed to hide my breasts. But my breasts weren’t having it.

My breasts continued to grow, and by the time I entered high school I was a 38C cup, making my way towards a D cup at breakneck speed. I did everything I could to dress in a way that minimized my breast size. Fortunately I was a total nerd, from my slightly awkward and unstylish way of dressing to my super-thick framed glasses, so the boys didn’t pay much attention to me. By the time I graduated I finally resigned myself to my big boobs.

These are the world’s largest natural breasts according to the Guiness Book of World Records.  They belong to Annie Hawkins-Turner (aka Norma Stitz, her softcore porn name) has an under breast measurement of 109.22 cm (43 in) and an around chest-over-nipple measurement of 177.8 cm (70 in). Her bra size is 102ZZZ, and her breasts weigh about 85 pounds. She started wearing a bra in the third grade.

But as a young adult woman I discovered my boobs had powers. They could get me out of speeding tickets, get me free admission to fancy parties and exclusive clubs, get me free drinks at bars for not just me, but for all of my girlfriends. I found my boobs could get me extra time to complete papers in college and more time to complete projects at work. The crazy thing was that I didn’t actually have to do anything in particular. I wasn’t a girl who went around wearing low cut clothing specifically to easily access my weaponry. Their presence alone, without any accentuating was sufficient. While I had always known women with big breasts could often parlay them into all kinds of preferential treatment, I never thought I would be one of those women. And I never thought that something so blatantly sexual would become one of the most highly identifiable parts of me. I was raised to be an intellectual, to be thoughtful, rational, reasonable and logical at all times. I was raised to write, to read, to think, to examine, to analyze. I always thought I’d be described as Petula the smart girl, the bright girl, the girl who can accomplish so much when she puts her mind to it. I never thought I’d be Petula, the girl with the big titties. Reconciling my view of myself from the inside with what I looked like on the outside was challenging, but I knew it had to be done.

To be continued – How my breast cancer scare helped me make peace with my breasts.