My own Truth

Every black female should know about the BET series “Being Mary Jane.” It’s a show that at first I was lost in translation with. I kept wondering why this African-American woman continuously did some risky and idiotic deeds. All this anger at the show, right, led to me realizing I was more angry with myself than her. My life wasn’t nearly as holy and sanctified as I was self-proclaiming. So, as you read this you’re basically going to get in chronological order every mistake I have come upon, as a friend, as a young lady, and now as a woman. Yes, now I am self-proclaiming the type of woman I was, and at the end of this short biography, hopefully I can help you understand in very short words how much of a woman I really am.

I can honestly say I have been nearly all of the women on Mary Jane at some point in my life. When I was a very young teenager I became sexually active. Matter of fact, I was sexually active earlier than those that were sexually active earlier. The only difference is that I stepped into this world with knowledge in the forefront. I used condoms faithfully, stayed away from oral sex, and kept the lights on, so to speak. My first was always a reoccurring. He wanted to keep me, despite my inner youth that screamed freedom! I was detached and only interested sexually. Yet, they weren’t emotionally mature and these things backfired.

Then there were later the “Niecy” girls, (Mary Jane’s sister, Raven Goodwin), I found a lot of young girls that had sex later became early mothers. I never once judge them. I just became impotent for six years, resisted sex until I was 18. It was tough, but I matured. I found out that there was such thing as conversation. Therefore, I developed crushes. I even found out that I was also attracted to women. The insecurities told me, “I am not ready.” The attraction to women became the attraction to their issues that mirrored my own.

Senior year came, and I had done my self-searching. I was ready to get in the game of dating. And this is when I started living my Mary Jane cast life.

Now, the events I am talking about are only pertaining to the show. Meaning, if you want more, read my next book.

In being Mary Jane, there is the character of David, or in real life Stephen Bishop. I met mines the year of 2011. He was wearing a leather coat, had his hair grown out, and was just down right sexy upon first glimpse. He was younger than me, but full of knowledge. We immediately hit it off, but he was a big time player, or as I called him then, “Taste-Tester.” I was stupid enough to stick around, he kept me lingering. After brushing up on every female I would introduce for mutual means, he would turn that player into a gentle soul by the end of the night. We would sit in the car and talk for hours. Things changed when he crossed the lines. One surprise. One kiss. Opened what I had oppressed in myself, I found myself head over heels. All it took was his free-will embrace. Then it was, fuck all those other girls, no matter who they were to me, this kiss was different. This kiss made me yearn for love. Yet, I found him leaving, walking away from me. And I stood there, lost and wide-open. I let him walk. It was the right thing to do.

Then Andre, or on Mary Jane the married man, or in my case the “Baby Daddy,” waltz his ass directly in my heart. Andre is played by Omari Hardwick, he saw me and I saw him and it was love at first sight. I remember, he approached me asked for my number, and two nights later confessed that he was dreaming of our future. He told me he had a child, but that he was moving on from the mother, the Robinne Lee of my life (Avery on the show). He attempted to straighten his life. He cut his golden dipped locs, which match his golden eyes. He moved out of town, he took me on dates. He even told me he loved me. Just like the series, that nigga, always manage to float his ass back to his baby momma.  He said, he needed to stay close for his child, while sleeping with her, talking about her flaws to me, and making promises that he wasn’t intending to keep. When I found out, I did what Mary Jane did, tried to move on. Yet, deleting numbers didn’t help. I managed to find his number through any means necessary. I had to hurt the other women by placing myself back into the situation, to find my strength. So, the nights of “you’re having sex with her too!” the lingerie, the belittling of her character, all of this happened. I was in love with him, it all made sense at the time.

I seek out comfort in my closest friend Martamique, but she was so unwilling to help. I figured then I had to do this alone. One night, I realized that I needed to send him back where he belonged. And I am glad I did, she was pregnant. At the time my brother Cory, accidently said, “That baby would look better if it had been yours.” This made me start thinking, hey I am 21, I really need to find a husband. Sex isn’t as good as lovemaking. And at the time I was having lots of “fucks,” I whored. I became the Brely Evans, the (Nichelle), the one looking for a good time, the thick-chubby friend, that not one person took seriously. Then I realized I was a hardworking woman, not a whore. I cracked down on myself, and once again another Andre popped up.

This Andre was taller darker and a handsome meerkat-man, with a body built to last. He came into the picture just to tell me I wasn’t “White” enough, and that he wasn’t ready for commitment. So after the previous, being that I wasn’t in love, I sent his ass packing quick.

Then the original Andre, (Stephen Bishop), came back. He just couldn’t resist me. If I could steal his sperm, I would have. However, my sister was born. Having children became too close of a reality that I wasn’t ready for. He, however, wanted my soul to keep. This I did not intentionally give. Instead, I promise he could protect it. He said he wanted to be my boyfriend, so I let him. I honestly didn’t believe the bullshit was over. And it wasn’t, my friend Marta came through to reclaim her nearly two year dibs. And if she hadn’t had sense that I, after two years, felt the dibs was up, my turn, he would have broken up with me and left. A choice I gave him. The only thing is this, once you make your decision then there is no coming back. I made minds ahead of time with her. 22 years of verbal insults, and being her Brely Evans, (Nichelle), I was done with her. I was screaming on the inside, make my day buddy, I can be done with you, I already felt heartache, so this is nothing.

She left, forfeited because I was as she worded “waste.” And he liked waste one to many times, so he is filthy and cannot be cleansed.

I, however, said okay, this decision was made by her, not by you Andre. Therefore, I am done.

Set a fire and watch them come running out. I found him screaming at me, “I CHOOSE YOU JASMINE, I LOVE YOU.”

He made his bed. That’s only what I needed. To be chosen, like Robinne Lee (Avery), to be the one and only.

I felt he struggled with this concept. I wasn’t perfect for him. This led to him trying to escape from me, even though he was free-to-leave. We were in love, but now I understood and lived by Beyoncé’s song “If you like it…then you should have put a ring on it.” I could mention the troublesome females, Monique, Andresa, Robyn, Alicia, Michelle Brenda or Bredna, they kept coming.  And I didn’t blame them, I blamed his insecurities.

I didn’t hate them, I wanted their apologies. I needed their wisdom to kick in, like Kara or Lisa Videl.

I never got those apologies. Just a million from my Andre, who was turning into my David.

My newly David proposed. I said yes. I was now the wife Avery, the Robinne Lee, while a girl named Robyn, the Nichelle’s in life, was getting some of my intimacy, even though she knew me.

Finding this out I became the Cape-crusader for woman, and snitch on my friends infidelity to their partners, therefore becoming Dr. Lisa Hudson, Latarsha Rose.Finally, now, I am a Robinne Lee, trying to fix what is broken, falling apart sometimes, but looking damned good and beautiful as an African- American woman.

I look forward to the day, when I can call myself the one thing I have not been on the entire series of Being Mary Jane, a mother and a long-term wife like Helen Patterson, known as Margaret Avery and he began to understand me like Richard Roundtree, character Paul Patterson, but to me, John Shaft.

So to end this I will leave you with a quote of the woman I am.

I’m every women, it’s all in me---RIP Whitney Houston