Definition of a Bullet Proof Diva
**Special thanks to Lawda, for inspiring me to think about Mother's Day in a completely new way**
My blog title really has 2 meanings….the song Bullet Proof Soul from Sade and the book that I read years ago the Bulletproof Diva.
What is a bulletproof diva?
“A woman whose sense of dignity and self cannot be denied; who, though she may live in a war zone like Brownsville, goes out everyday greased, pressed, and dressed, with hair faded and braided and freeze-dried and spit-curled and wrapped and locked and cut to a sexy baldie (so she is all eyes and lips) and piled ten inches high and colored siren red, cobalt blue, and flaming yellow. She is fine and she knows it. She has to know it because who else will. . . . A Bulletproof Diva is not, I repeat, not that tired stereotype, the emasculating black bitch too hard for love or piety. It’s safe to assume that a Bulletproof Diva is whoever you make her—corporate girl, teen mom, or the combination—as long as she has the lip and nerve, and as long as she uses that lip and nerve to raise up herself and the world."
-Lisa Jones, Author
This book was given to me by The Wisest Diva…my mother. This is one example of how my mom really worked hard to show me the beautiful balance of being a strong, black, independent female as well as, being a loving, nurturing, patient woman (uh yea.. still workin on the latter, Mama).
When I was growing up, my mother had many roles: wife, mother, pastor’s wife, career women, student, you name it she did it. My father was the type that believed in a strong familial unit (read: strict and sheltered) where family came first (after God). He always supported my mom in her career aspirations and he filled in for her when she couldn’t do some of the domestic duties. To me, they had the perfect set up. Dad had no problem cooking for us (well, he tried..but like Olivia said: I’m still alive!) picking us up from school, and helping us with homework. In return, my mom ironed his shirts (every day!), cooked the meals, and juggled the child rearing with school (nursing) and work. She made it seem so damn effortless, I used to have this perception that it is possible to have IT ALL: career, husband, kids, travel, and all the trappings of a diva lifestyle. Now, one day I had the nerve to tell her that I was mad at her because she never told me that she had days when she wanted to choke my father, slap the hell out of me and my sister, and quit the nursing profession because of the grunt work. I thought she gave me a distorted view of being some uber mom, a fearless superwoman, able to leap tall buildings, and handle whatever madness came her way. The truth is none of That mess is easy! (LOL). When I asked her how she managed it all, she said what choice did I have? I couldn’t afford a nervous breakdown, nor did I have the luxury of complaining every time things didn’t go my way. I never claimed to be a superwoman, just a woman. Wow..shut me right up. Now that I am older, she keeps it real with me. She shares with me how my Dad makes her extremely happy when he is at the lake, chillin in the log cabin that he built (black people in a logcabin, such a beautiful thing). She admits that when he is on a business trip, she doesn’t miss ironing his shirts everyday. She confesses that being a pastor’s wife got on her “damn nerves” more times than she can remember. But she also says that she would not change a thing nor does she regret making the choices that she made, or sacrificing for her family. She did it out of love. I want to be like my mom when I grow up, a real Bullet Proof Diva.
Happy Mother’s Day Mama!
My blog title really has 2 meanings….the song Bullet Proof Soul from Sade and the book that I read years ago the Bulletproof Diva.
What is a bulletproof diva?
“A woman whose sense of dignity and self cannot be denied; who, though she may live in a war zone like Brownsville, goes out everyday greased, pressed, and dressed, with hair faded and braided and freeze-dried and spit-curled and wrapped and locked and cut to a sexy baldie (so she is all eyes and lips) and piled ten inches high and colored siren red, cobalt blue, and flaming yellow. She is fine and she knows it. She has to know it because who else will. . . . A Bulletproof Diva is not, I repeat, not that tired stereotype, the emasculating black bitch too hard for love or piety. It’s safe to assume that a Bulletproof Diva is whoever you make her—corporate girl, teen mom, or the combination—as long as she has the lip and nerve, and as long as she uses that lip and nerve to raise up herself and the world."
-Lisa Jones, Author
This book was given to me by The Wisest Diva…my mother. This is one example of how my mom really worked hard to show me the beautiful balance of being a strong, black, independent female as well as, being a loving, nurturing, patient woman (uh yea.. still workin on the latter, Mama).
When I was growing up, my mother had many roles: wife, mother, pastor’s wife, career women, student, you name it she did it. My father was the type that believed in a strong familial unit (read: strict and sheltered) where family came first (after God). He always supported my mom in her career aspirations and he filled in for her when she couldn’t do some of the domestic duties. To me, they had the perfect set up. Dad had no problem cooking for us (well, he tried..but like Olivia said: I’m still alive!) picking us up from school, and helping us with homework. In return, my mom ironed his shirts (every day!), cooked the meals, and juggled the child rearing with school (nursing) and work. She made it seem so damn effortless, I used to have this perception that it is possible to have IT ALL: career, husband, kids, travel, and all the trappings of a diva lifestyle. Now, one day I had the nerve to tell her that I was mad at her because she never told me that she had days when she wanted to choke my father, slap the hell out of me and my sister, and quit the nursing profession because of the grunt work. I thought she gave me a distorted view of being some uber mom, a fearless superwoman, able to leap tall buildings, and handle whatever madness came her way. The truth is none of That mess is easy! (LOL). When I asked her how she managed it all, she said what choice did I have? I couldn’t afford a nervous breakdown, nor did I have the luxury of complaining every time things didn’t go my way. I never claimed to be a superwoman, just a woman. Wow..shut me right up. Now that I am older, she keeps it real with me. She shares with me how my Dad makes her extremely happy when he is at the lake, chillin in the log cabin that he built (black people in a logcabin, such a beautiful thing). She admits that when he is on a business trip, she doesn’t miss ironing his shirts everyday. She confesses that being a pastor’s wife got on her “damn nerves” more times than she can remember. But she also says that she would not change a thing nor does she regret making the choices that she made, or sacrificing for her family. She did it out of love. I want to be like my mom when I grow up, a real Bullet Proof Diva.
Happy Mother’s Day Mama!
Add a comment