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coffeetalkxo:

Jazmine Sullivan’s presence in the music industry cannot be limited to just one venue. Dabbling in Reggae, Pop and dominating R&B, her edgy and sultry voice is unforgettable, to say the least. So when she announced her music hiatus via twitter, all of her fans were disappointed but it was understandable. She told herself she would take a step back from music when it stopped being fun & we totally understand so what did we do in the meantime? Put it on a beat of course! “Smoking Gun” featuring Magnolia Shorty (r.i.p) is every New Orleans’ gals favorite song to dip to & with Jazmine’s vocals, it makes for the perfect bounce song, lol!

It’s been about 3 years since Jaz has been on the scene so when news broke that she’s working on a new album, we were more than ecstatic for one of our favorite songstresses to be back doing what she does best. Be on the look our for her new music here on the blog and everywhere else, because I know the second she drops something, we’ll be all over it like yeah!

Hoda, xo.

writing is not a luxury.

coffeetalkxo:

Reading essay’s in Audre Lorde’s Sister Outsider - “Poetry is not a Luxury”, where she emphasizes how poetry becomes the voice where women, black women in particular are able to fully contextualize their experience of life without the words of other races or genders (namely white male writes) had me thinking about a lot of things lately. As a black woman who runs a blog with my cousin and writing my own material in my free time, I wonder a lot about my voice. Where it comes from? What does my writing add to the conversation that my fellow sisters and brother’s are writing about in the blog-o-sphere? What do I, a 21 years old college student have to say about my world and how I see it?

Everyone is entitled to an opinion especially in the age where all you need is a smart phone and an outlet, having a voice isn’t the most difficult thing to obtain, but what I worry about is the intent of these voices and what inspires them. I didn’t even know, until recently, about the copious amount of blogs out there dedicated to the black voice and our black experiences. I love it all! The natural hair blogs, the blogs who specialize in talking about relationships in the African American community, blogs dedicated to music in our community, the movies, television shows — the list is endless but something I want to reaffirm here on coffee talk is not only my purpose as co-owner of this multifaceted and ever-developing outlet, but my purpose as a black, Muslim, woman, writer. 

I feel as though I have been a part of this dialogue, be it in my highly biased classroom environment or within my own peers, about the role of race and gender in the artistic and expressive space. Some may disagree with me and that’s perfectly fine, but I am here to say that there is no way to subtract the core of your existence, especially as a black woman writer in your art. What Sister Lorde is tackling in her works and the above essay particularly touches on that, even in it’s title stating boldly that poetry is not a luxury and I wholeheartedly agree. I’ve taken just about every Brit Lit class there is to take and all Romantic writers agree that poetry is about the spontaneous flow of emotions and though it may be, I believe that not only poetry but all literary works, even a blog, have a much higher calling than just the pleasurable spewing of emotions. Poetry is the documentation of the life and it’s participants. I don’t believe writing is a passive form of expression alone. It is concrete and complex and it is active and participating in the dialogue that is life.

With the passing of one of my favorite writers last week, the late Great Amiri Barka, may he rest in peace; I wonder greatly now more than ever about my purpose as a writer and what my message is. Remembering his play The Dutchman, which is an immensely dense, compacted two act play with only two characters, but speaks volumes on race, racism, jazz, slavery and even sexism — I am drawn to why I decided to write in the first place and it was not because I had nothing better to do. I decided to write because like Audre Lorde’s brevity, I am called to be brave in who I am, where I came from and my pure pumping black heart with all of it’s stories and tales. Lifetimes have lived behind my eyes so I don’t write to pass the time, I write to live. I write not for a luxury but because my situations and how I see the world is important because of who I am as a black Muslim woman writer. That voice, not only from me but for so many others like me, with my skin color, my curly hair, my wide hips and full lips, my attitude and corn bred fed body, are needed desperately and consistenly for the discourse of life.

with love,

Hoda. xo.

love letter to the men who couldn't get her —

coffeetalkxo:

hey you, yes you. remember me? the girl who kept you up so late at night probably because all of your phone calls were made so late at night. yes, me the one who came and brought you food and gifts to your house, came saw you when you were sick? remember her? The one who listened to you gripe and complain about your ex, telling me she was crazy and how she had an attitude problem and how you like me so much because i’m so different. yes me, i’m writing you to tell you that our waters were troubled before we stepped in, in case you didn’t know. she would call and text you and you would swear that it’s nothing and that you’re in the situation with me to grow. those waters that left me high and dry many a nights, debating if i should call to question your whereabouts, did I even have that right? better yet, did i even stand a chance? because the second she came around, it’s like i was tossed out. made no sense to me, i was raised to be strong, resilient and to never take no shit from anyone, especially not no man, but i somehow ended up being the seat-filler for your past. and no don’t try and give me that “you get what you allow” bullshit because when you fall in love, you don’t ask for it. you don’t ask to be treated as a second-rate lover when all the while you were number one in my life. this wasn’t a love of permission, nope. i cared so much that i ended up getting hurt. all the soft shit aside, was it because she screamed at you louder than i? or maybe it’s because she was hitting your phone up non stop? and i beg the question, how in the world did her birthday end up as the password to your phone while i’m laying next to you? how did you end up at her family gathering and i’m waiting for a call? too many questions, i’ll let this all simmer. just take a deep breath, understand that i don’t regret a thing because i loved you fully and deeply, and here i am, woman enough to admit you are a fuck up. i didn’t stand a chance huh? i bet. i thought love was supposed to ignite carnal instincts in people, the hunt. supposed to make you want one person and when you find them that’s it. why didn’t you just choose her? better yet, why the fuck did you choose me while you still loved her? sorry, i know i promised no more questions but did you think that just because i laughed at all your jokes i wouldn’t wise up to your immature ass methodologically way of loving someone? i finally did.

with love, 

Hoda xo.

Bey wants me to what?

coffeetalkxo:

I remember loving Beyonce when I was just a child, rushing home to listen to Dangerously In Love and I was set, just like every other girl in middle school, on becoming a singer. I sang, danced, pranced, and lived for every track. I would even force my pops to listen to her song  entitled “daddy” where she paid a soulful homage to the number one man in her life, her father. So there’s no question about me being a fan. Beyonce’s music for lack of better words moves me. I love her energy, her commitment as an artist, her honesty as a woman, and her down-home roots — but something about this “Bow Down” track does not sit well with me. Don’t think I, or anyone else for that matter, has ever questioned Bey’s role in the entertainment industry, her prowess has been unmatched. There has never been a moment when we saw her as Jay’s “little wife”. To go from an album like 4 to this.. is just confusing, Bey. We love you, but we have questions honey. A lot of them.

Hoda, xo.

Black History Month 2013

coffeetalkxo:

For the past couple weeks I’ve contemplated writing a Black History Month post, and well, here I am to deliver. As y’all may know, black history is a subject matter that is not only dear to us but also causes a positive rise out of us. Despite being honored during the shortest month of the year, it is forever embedded in us. We find it important, that we not only continue to revive ourselves on this subject of black history, but also enlighten others. 

My personal drive came from the urge to know about my history and the people who paved a way for me. As a Muslim, I’ve learned that the history of my people lies deeper than my skin. It is estimated that 10 to 15 percent of the slaves brought to the New World were Muslim. It was also my hometown, New Orleans, and my father who introduced me to the beauty of African American culture. I loved the people, who lived to tell old stories, the jazz music, and the artists. However, moving from New Orleans to Maine, was a challenge on how I viewed myself as a African American female. It was hard transitioning from a state of diversity to relocating to a place where I was one of few minorities. I spent many years tip-toeing around white people to avoid being labeled the stereotypical black woman. Till this day, I receive the same reaction when I speak my mind like they expect me to be incoherent.  It was a while before I could fully grasp that I was often silently discriminated towards. To me it was just quite ironic that people of the north, who proudly flaunted their history of fighting for the rights of African Americans’, were the ones still engaging in prejudice acts. I learned that the institutions of the region many people described as having “the best schools”, taught me nearly nothing about the history of my people that helped mold this country. If I left it to the education system to know about black history, all I would know about would be the surface facts about Martin Luther King Jr and Rosa Parks.

As a young teenager, I realized I could do either two things: continue to feel devalued by white people and ignore my worth and potential or embrace who I was and represent it proudly. So I took the initiative to educate myself. Everything I gained knowledge on further interested me to research. Every time I researched I was introduced to these astonishing historical figures that I fell in love with. In middle school, I joined the Civil Rights Team and that’s when I became aware that my purpose had something to do with uplifting people in the black community.  It gave me hope to know that I could make a difference like my precedents Ethel L. Payne, Alice Dunbar-Nelson, or even Ida Bell Wells-Barnett. 

Today, my sentiments on this subject, remains that black history should be honored regularly. It should be apart of American history and be instilled in our youth. The fact that it isn’t, proves undoubtedly, that we still haven’t reached equality among whites. Some might argue that Obama as President is a stepping stone, which is, but the question is will our children fathom the significance? They need to be taught every part of their history, including the uncomfortable facts, not to just appreciate how far we have come but to be inspired to continue rising above. We, as African Americans, are the only ones capable of reshaping how we are perceived, by making changes amongst ourselves. That doesn’t necessarily mean that people must protest and be aggressive. Not everyone’s purpose is the same but we should at least embrace who we are and where we come from.  Here, on our blog, one of our objectives is to support and promote fellow African American writers, poets, musicians, blogs, designers, and so on. Furthermore we will recommend books to read or movies and documentaries to watch. Does that mean that we are discriminating? No, we just stand firm in uplifting the African American community in any way that we can. 

txting.

coffeetalkxo:

i’m fond of it. it’s fun. quick. easy. but it is, by no means, an adequate substitute for actual, real life interaction. especially in the name of romance. i can text you throughout your day, when you are at work and i am as well, and we need that little pick-me-up to get each other through the grueling monotony that is retail employment. i get it. but do not depend on getting any real indication of how i feel about you or anything via text. there is nothing in this world that can replace talking in person. seeing someone’s reaction to what you say, how they say what they need to, their laugh, their smile. nothing. texting too much almost ruins the romance, for me. i get these mundane, expressionless phrases that, to me, can’t really be put into context. i don’t know. maybe it’s just me. maybe because tone and and facial expressions are so important to me, so unbelievably crucial. maybe because i see a text conversation as a hybrid of the real thing. maybe, just maybe, it’s because i know nothing compares to being with the person you have feelings for and that no matter how many “:-*” emoticons you might send, it’ll cower to a real kiss anyway. it’s just that i feel there’s almost a dependency on texting, it’s become an aspect of romancing someone instead of a means of shortened communication. i don’t want an edited love, i don’t want a short-hand courtship. but, maybe that’s just me.

with an unwavering, unapologetic bias,

hoda. xo