ACA, also known as Obamacare, Is the Scapegoat

Let me break this down so it can forever be broke:

ACA did not raise the cost of your insurance premium, your insurance company did.

The Affordable Care Act (ACA), more commonly known as Obamacare, made for several provisions:

-Health insurance for those who were previously uninsured or under insured, through the state market places or exchanges (and development of those exchanges) and the expansion of Medicaid in states that chose to do so;

-Children remaining on their parents insurance until age 26;

-Elimination of pre-existing conditions (includes pregnancy, cancer, diabetes, HIV, etc) clauses;

-Prevention-centered care that includes $0 co-pay for well-care visits and annual screenings, and $0 copay for maintenance drugs and birth control. Did your doctor’s office start talking about or advertising ‘patient-centered care’? Thank ACA.

These and the many other provisions of the Care Act cost money. Covering more sick people costs money. So to offset that, the bill did require everyone to have insurance or pay a fine. More younger, healthier people chose to pay the fine than those who chose to get insurance. Healthy people generally would have offset the cost of paying for those older, sicker patients who chose to get insurance. Because that did not happen, insurance companies shifted the cost to the consumer, us, by raising premium costs rather than taking a hit to their billions of dollars profits. It’s the same thing as when our telephone company, AT&T, charges us, the consumer, that FCC charge as opposed to paying it themselves. Now, some of us are fortunate enough to have employers who take on the bulk of the cost for premiums. For example, I pay less than $200/month for my family’s medical insurance. Of course, that is not the case for everyone and the self-employed have that burden to bear alone. People who get their medical insurance through the state exchanges receive federal offsets for their premiums.

So, to sum up, ACA did not raise your medical insurance premium, your insurance company did. How could this have happened? Well, while the public was complaining on social media and around the dinner table about “Obamacare”, the insurance and pharmaceutical companies had their lobbyist speaking to the members of Congress to get their clients’ needs known. Did you call your State and Federal Senators or Representatives to let them know what you wanted to see happen with the ACA before it was passed or did you just go by what you heard and bitch and moan about it to your friends?

This time around, let’s not wait until after the bill is passed to voice our complaints and concerns. This time, let us all be vigilant and email, fax, tweet, DM, and call our representatives and let them know what is important to us. You can believe the insurance and pharmaceutical companies already are.

Of course, this is all a simplification of a very complicated issue so by all means, stay informed. For more reading on ACA, visit http://www.hhs.gov/healthcare/facts-and-features/key-features-of-aca/.

I’m Not Here for Your Excuses

I really hadn’t planned on posting this today. Did you miss me?

After receiving several emails from the child support office, I thought maybe someone had hit the lottery and all was about to be made right. Instead, I logged in today to see that my younger daughter’s father had paid half of his monthly payment. So apparently the emails were a glitch in the system. I clicked over to the screen that shows the amount owed in arrears and he owes a little over $10,000. He seems to only pay when his license is threatened. He’s a gainfully employed corporate IT guy, who buys $300 shoes for our daughter, but asks for an itemized bill before he will pay his half of the out of pocket orthodontic expenses. I guess the braces on her teeth aren’t enough proof. He’s tried the “I need an itemized list of all that she (meaning me) buys/pay for” in court, and the judge set him straight then. Old habits die hard.

I left that screen and clicked over to the other order and saw that Mr. Drake owes $157,702.20 in child support for our two children. Let that roll over in your mind for a while.


$157,702.20 could pay for braces for everyone.

$157,702.20 could have allowed for our son and daughter to participate in all the extra-curricular activities they wanted. It could have also allowed for a tutor when they both had their struggles in math or before they took the ACT or PSAT/SAT.

$157,702.20 could have paid for private school if I so chose to go that route.

$157,702.20 could pay our son’s college tuition. Instead, he’s going to be saddled with student loans, for which I am the co-signer.

Unfortunately, the wonderful lawyer I had retired and most other attorneys want a crazy retainer before they will even look at your case, so I am at the mercy of the state child support office. One would think they are working for the non-custodial parents, related even, or that I was asking the case worker to come out her pocket. Each time I inquired about my case, I received a threat to cancel my case in return. When I first moved to Georgia, I spent a year and half traveling (3 hours one way) back and forth every 3 months to attend a child support hearing that never happened because they failed to serve Mr. Drake. The one time I missed court because I was tired of the foolishness, I was told my case would be closed. So I moved the case to GA and filed with the DA’s office in my county so they could handle the inter-state communication. He moved to North Carolina and I received a letter from the NC office threatening to close the case. When I was able to speak with someone I was told I wasn’t going to get any money anyway because he was on food stamps. My reply: "My kids eat, can I get part of those food stamps?"

Needless to say, I have resigned myself to the child support offices in GA and NC to just being the tally keepers. Every now and then they might send out a letter to them threatening to take their licenses and a letter to me threatening to close my case. Whatever they can do to rid themselves of the problem, with the exception of actively doing their job.

Raising a child, of course, is about much more than money. I have nurtured my children, provided them with all my support, care, and love. I’ve done my best to direct them and help them navigate through life. I’ve sat in emergency rooms until 6 am, nursed sick babies at home and away at school (no matter how old, they' re always my babies), and sat through many a football game as a proud football, band and dance mom. I’ve been a room parent, sat on two PTA boards at the same time and shuffled schedules and children between high school, middle school and elementary school. I’ve done all this and more, with the help of our village, for their benefit simply because I love them and I want to see them be good citizens and succeed in this life.

So to all the men who think paying child support is somehow beneath you or too much of a burden or for the benefit of the mother, grow the fuck up and try putting your children ahead of your of own selfishness for a change.



Addendum:
Yes, I know not all custodial parents are women and in some cases the children live with a guardian and both parents owe child support. I am speaking from my experience. You can share yours in the comments.

I Ain't Ready

I've been writing down my thoughts since Thursday. I've been reading every article, watching every video, and playing my albums/CDs all weekend. Some of my friends are probably rolling their eyes at their FB timeline full of Prince posts by me. My other friends are posting just as many and we're sharing and enjoying each other's memories. Today, I pulled up the laptop and started to right my tribute to Prince. I thought I was ready. I ain't ready. I need a little more time to come to terms and to dissect why this man I never met meant so much to me. All in due time...

Black Women, Responsibility, and HIV Prevention

It is safe to say I am obsessed with all things Formation. I have seen the shows with pundits breaking down the subliminal messages of the video and SBO50 half-time performance, real or imagined, and read the articles that also dissect the messages in the video. I’ve looked into the back story of the clips she used and learned about Messy Mya and watched That B.E.A.T.. By the way, I totally understand why the directors were so upset that so much of their footage made it into her video and took to Twitter to be receive their just credit.

In all of that, the article that hit me at my core was the one written by Ashley Innes and posted on HIV Equal Online. In the article Ms. Innes echoes what I have been saying for years to anyone who will listen: As women, we have to take responsibility for our own sexual health. We cannot lay down that right at the doorstep of the bedroom, and we cannot blame our partners if we are not actively engaged in our protection. We are not victims. We are grown women doing whatever we want, and so we have to be accountable for our choices. Read Ms. Innes’ plea for us to get in Formation here .

Butt Shaming

Now, that I have sobered up from laughing at Kanye West’s twitter beef and the subsequent Amber Rose meme’s, let’s have a discussion about butt shaming.

I understand why Amber Rose had to come for Kanye. When you bring someone’s child into your petty tweets over something you clearly misunderstood, you have to expect to get body slammed by any reasonable person. If Kanye has married his dream girl, why does he keep bringing up Amber Rose anyway? Seems to me that if he were truly over her and their relationship he would wish her well and keep it moving. Instead, he seems to find ways to insult her, unprovoked. But I digress.

Let’s get back to what many saw as the death blow to end Kanye’s rant and force him to delete his tweets. In response to Kanye’s disrespectful remarks about Amber’s and Whiz Khalifa’s child, Amber Rose tweeted:

Awww @kanyewest are u mad I'm not around to play in ur asshole anymore? #FingersInTheBootyAssBitch☝

— Amber Rose (@DaRealAmberRose) January 27, 2016

Lol @kanyewest Now u wanna delete ur tweets cuz Muva has arrived? #TwitterFingers #UrGettingBodiedByAStripperNigga

— Amber Rose (@DaRealAmberRose) January 27, 2016

And then the memes began. I even reposted the tiny, deflated Kanye on Amber Rose’s finger meme. But once I finished laughing, I had to question why was that the ultimate dis and why did we find it funny?

In the rap community, as well as the black community, men who are seen as effeminate or gay have often faced ridicule and even violence. Only recently have any black, male rappers come out as gay or bisexual. It’s still somewhat taboo in an industry that applauds machismo. Jhene Aiko can sing about eating the booty like groceries, but a man, a black man in particular, dare not express his interest, or enjoyment, in being stimulated anally.

But why? Anal play/butt play is nothing to be ashamed of, and can be quite pleasurable for men (and women), whether they are giving or receiving. And yet, it still makes some people anxious and can be used as a weapon to shame, discriminate against, and also to kill.

I have to admit that I have once engaged in this behavior myself. I was upset and felt disrespected and so I lashed out against an ex in much the same way Amber Rose did, although not on social media, it was still in a public format. I felt horrible afterwards and apologized for using against him what had taken place in the privacy of the intimate spaces of our relationship.

I don’t suspect there will be any apologies or forgiving moments between Amber Rose and Kanye West any time soon. And although watching celebs have breakdowns and beat downs on Twitter can be entertaining, we all need to be cognizant of how language (or tweets or memes) can be used to shame. And while it may or may not have any impact on the celebrity, it can make others feel targeted and create a dangerous atmosphere where people are unable to be and express who they are.

Let's Talk - TBT

“Hello.”
“Hey girl. I have a story to tell about the other night.”
“Did you go see him?”
Laughter echoes through the phone.
“Well, talk to me!”

The story begins with the question:

“Why are you here?” I can hear him question me and my intentions. I try to smile and give him my usual flip remark. He leans in closer and again asks, “Why are you here?”

The way he is looking at me; even in the dimness of the candlelit room I can feel the intensity. My thighs are sweating and my heart is pounding. I’m a little nervous about what may come next. Was I too forward, coming over here at this time of night, with such a short dress on, nothing underneath? Have I misread his intentions?

As these thoughts are flowing through my mind, he reaches out, pulls me up from the sofa and turns me around, placing his arms around my waist. This time he whispers in my ear, “Are you here for company or sex?” I can barely reply, “I’m here for both.” He begins to gently kiss the back of my neck. Mmmmm, his lips are so soft. I can feel the butterfly wings fluttering in my stomach. He guides me down the dimly lit hall into his bedroom. Maxwell’s ‘Til the Cops Come Knockin’ has grown faint.

The bedroom is as expected, stylish with contemporary furniture fitting of someone with his taste; and more candles. He leans me across the bed and returns to kissing and licking the back of my neck. A few minutes go by and he steps back and pushes my dress up around my waist to admire my ass. I feel his hands caress my thighs, my cheeks, my swollen lips. And then he’s gone. I am so enthralled that all I can do is continue to grip the sheets in heated anticipation of his return. My patience is soon rewarded as he returns and now positions my right leg on the bed so that he can enter my waiting pussy from behind. I can feel my sugawalls adjust to his thick, latex-covered dick causing me to grip the sheets tighter. The slow, rhythmic motions of his hips and the workings of his fingers on my ass and my clit are driving me crazy. I feel myself about to cum after only a short time of this clitlicious attention. Just then he whispers in my ear, “Let it go”. He nibbles on my earlobe and continues chanting, “Let it go.” And with his coaching I do let go and my body begins to shake uncontrollably. It’s late and I don’t want to disturb his neighbors so I bury my face into the bed so as to stifle my screams of ecstasy. After a few seconds or so, I begin to calm down; I’m not shaking as much, my breath begins to steady. But he wants more. He tells me not to stop as he continues massaging my clit until I am cumming again.

Seconds become minutes, minutes become hours and he only stops long enough to tantalize my feet, my legs, my breasts with his hands, his lips, his tongue. There are moments of laughter, passionate kisses, and silent stares intermingled with the moans and screams of pleasure. I’m pleading with him to stop, but don’t stop, ecstasy; oh, sweet rhapsody. I feel as though I’m suspended between two life planes. Lawd, who is this man that has, in one night, erased months of loneliness and neglect, and calmed the hunger inside that threatened to devour me?

Our bodies have finally come to rest with legs intertwined. Through half-closed eyes I can see the flicker of the candle’s flame, and Maxwell is again singing in the background about making love until the cops come knocking.

The Epilogue: Words Hurt

Apparently, there was a lot left to be said. After a cool down period of a few weeks, where we would text here and there, we finally spoke again. He called me one night after one of his gigs. I could tell he was drinking and smoking his cigar. He usually couldn’t tell me how he really felt until after a drink or two. He was like George in that way.

After some small talk, I told him I felt the relationship had become a distraction from what I needed to be doing to move my life forward and we were just stuck in these repeating patterns. He thanked me for “shitting on him” when we last spoke because I told him he may not be undetectable this soon after starting his meds. I let him know that I was praying for him, his growth and his health. I just didn’t want him to be disappointed or discouraged if he didn’t attain an undetectable status immediately. He then went on this long rant about how he was a different kind of musician because he had also majored in marketing. OK.

He wanted me to know that he had been working on his music and felt better, but he also couldn’t have any distractions. After reading what I wanted in a man, he felt he wasn’t that and could never be that, therefore I was a distraction because, in his opinion, I was imposing something on him he couldn’t live up to and so I was taking away from his music. At this point he was so inebriated I couldn’t understand anything else he had to say, but I surely got the message.

We spoke a few days later while I was in Miami. For some reason, we always called each other when one of us was out of town. I guess old habits are hard to break. I let him know that I never would want to be a distraction to what God has planned for him. Of course, he started back tracking and saying that’s not what he meant. He only meant that he couldn’t be the man that I wanted. Fair enough.

A few weeks after that he called to let me know that he had gone to his doctor's appointment. As it turned out, he was undetectable. I congratulated him on his success. He wanted to get another HIV test since the doctor had given him that news. For the life of me I couldn’t figure out why he wanted to be tested again. It wasn’t until the next day that it occurred to me that he thought being undetectable would mean his HIV test would now be negative. At the risk of “shitting on him” again, I explained what it meant to be undetectable - reduced virus in the blood – and that he would always test positive because the HIV test looks for antibodies and unless and until there is a cure, he will always have antibodies to the virus.

He took the news well and we continued talking. I even went to two of his performances. And that’s where the good feelings ended. At one of those performances I felt disrespected by an interaction between him and one of his female friends. So as we usually do, we argued. And the argument turned nasty. We rehashed old and recent grievances. He threw in my face that I had not been in a relationship in the last 6 years and I threw back that he hadn’t been able to keep a relationship in that same time period. He said it was because no one had really peaked his interest like his ex-wife, and maybe he should let her know since now they were on speaking terms after performing together. I told him to go right ahead and hung up the phone. He continued to text and call and I continued to send him to voicemail. Eventually, I answered the phone and asked him to stop calling me.

He did, but then called the next day to apologize for the way he had spoken to me. He wanted us to talk. I said I didn’t have anything left to say, but I would give him the opportunity to voice what he needed to get out. In an effort to spare my girls any more of my yelling, I agreed to meet him at his house after dinner so we could finish this.

I really could have stayed at home and not heard another word he had to say. It was just more of the same bullshit. He told me he valued me as friend and a person. I said I couldn’t tell. He kept talking and asking me questions. With a smirk on his face, he repeatedly asked me, “Well, what do you think you are to me?”

It seemed like he thought he was pulling some kind of secret out of me. It was so ridiculous. I finally said, “Your ex”.

“So when you came over in March that was to break up with me?” He asked.

“Yes. We’ve been through this.” I replied.

“But you were never my girlfriend.” He said smugly swirling his wine in a snifter glass. “I never asked you to be my girl. I merely said that I thought you were the woman I could spend the rest of my life with, but I was trying to get to know you by dating you.”

“So we’re back in high school now!? Because you didn’t ask will you go with me, or pass me a note to check yes or no, we weren’t together? You know you can say some stupid ass...” I stopped myself from going down that rabbit hole with a wave.

“None of what you just said makes sense. But I tell you what, if I was never your girl then we can just end this conversation right now. And you can take my name off your emergency contacts.”

“When I called you last week to tell you I was undetectable you didn’t even come celebrate with me. You just said congratulations. Tasarah said if you were really my girl, if you were any kind of woman, you would have just told me to put on a condom and had sex with me, even before I was undetectable.”

“Really? You want to bring that bitch up right now. For all I know, she was the one who gave you HIV. Because she couldn’t be your woman, she’s settling for the role of ‘bestie’ and in your ear every chance she gets. Tell her I will gladly give up the reins and she can take that chance since that’s what the both of you want.”

I got my things together and got up to leave. He grabbed me around my waist and kept telling me that he knew me, and I would be back just like before. Clearly he didn’t know me as well as he thought. This time, he hurt me to my core. There was no coming back from this.

It’s been a year since he told me he was positive. It has taken me this whole year to get over, go around, and just deal with all of everything I have been going through. I’ve had to come to terms with me and why I was so willing to move the boundaries over and over again in our 6 years of non-relationship. I am by no means a victim. I am the only person who is responsible and accountable for my well-being. I am no longer willing to turn that power over to someone else.

I haven’t been dating. I haven’t really had the time, but I also wanted to be absolutely sure that I was negative before I became involved with anyone else. I’ve had several HIV tests, the last one this past September. All, thankfully, have been negative. It didn’t even occur to me, until my GYN brought it up, that I had not been tested for other things since he told me. Thankfully, those tests were negative as well.

Since our last confrontation, we’ve seen each other out a few times, but we don’t really speak. Although he knew I would be writing this blog, he wanted me to take it down after the third post he was so afraid someone would figure out who he was. I refused. He accused me of trying to out him. I reminded him that if I wanted to do that I could have when he first told me, but I didn’t and I won’t. I still maintain I am able to keep his secret while at the same time telling my story. I have finally found my voice and I refuse to be silent again.

Part X