Now I know where ALL the happy white people are...in Church!!

Love will make you do some crazy things. My boyfriend asked me to go to church with he and his family Saturday evening in Santa Clarita. I haven’t been to church in seven or eight years.  When we started dating, I told him I didn’t go to church and that i’ve been there, done that and i have the t-shirt to prove it. I also told him that i believe in God and that I have a personal relationship with God.  Lastly, I told him I had no interest in conversion. I’m opposed to labels and I take issue with people throwing around the title of being a “Christian” to loosely and then passing judgement if you’ve decided to NOT prescribed to organized religion.

So, here I am ironing my red party dress preparing to enter the doors of the church house with my man in tow. Thank goodness he phones me to tell me that they dress casual at this church. At least I wore a skirt. 

We arrived in Santa Clarita, after a 50-minute drive. Who drives nearly an hour to worship?  The same people who drive nearly an hour for a Jay Z or Beyonce concert I’m sure. No judgement. We walk up to the church and it looks like a mini concert hall with outdoor seating, big flat screen t.v.’s all around and a coffee shop.  We walk in to be greeted by what appeared to be happy people, smiling and welcoming us.  Now, I am treading lightly on water when I say this next statement.  But, here goes.  I have NEVER been in a room full of so many caucasian people smiling at me and greeting me with hellos. I’m just saying that …that has NOT been MY experience.  One after the other welcomed me. Several women gently pushed past other women to tell me how much they loved my hair. I seriously thought I was on candid camera. If only WE could all be that kind, loving and sincere with one another when we’re pushing our carts passed one another in the grocery store, at a traffic light or at a K-Mart blue light special. I’m just saying!  

We walk into the cathedral. Yes, I called it a cathedral. This was the largest church I’d ever been in.  It had stadium style seating and the room was dark. I almost thought we were waiting for Prince to hit the stage. The  the room became even darker before the stage lit up revealing  N’sync-like Christian Rock band.  WTFreak!  Young girls, between the ages of seven and nine were one row behind us singing the lyrics from the large flat screen tv screen projectors that scrolled: “King of Kings and  “our Savior saves”, yada! yada! yada!  They were adorable.  The band.. slash choir sang two songs too many; however, they played well together and had powerful voices. I liked them. I was on my feet swaying back and forth clapping my hand to my thighs. I was into it.   However, I did feel myself getting off beat.  I’m not sure what that was about; except that it frustrated me trying to get back on beat, in a church setting.

I couldn’t help but scan the congregation. I was one of maybe five black people; including the older black lady who was a choir member.  I know what you’re thinking:  Fee is always noticing race.  I notice OUR differences; yet celebrate our similarities.  I grew up visiting Baptist and The Kingdom Hall church, where black people attended church primarily with other black people.  I always wondered if white people went to church at all.  When I watched Tammy Faye Baker on TV, I thought it was a PBS special. I din’t know it was a real church.  lol

Not to mention, the last time I attended church, there were no women with rocking semi-backless dresses. There were no women walking around the church house with their entire G-String showing. Now, I’m not passing judgement; I’m just sharing the facts. My eyes and ears are recalling what I took in.

Soon after the choir/band performed, the collection bag followed. When I attended church, it was referred to as the “collection plate”.  Not only has the name changed, but they have an app. It’s called the “offering app”  WTFreak. 

The pastor, of “Real life Church” entered the stage area to address his audience. This is what he called them. I’m not making this up. Last time I attended church, they were referred to as “The congregation” or “paritioners” .  But, this is a new day and things have obviously changed. Pastor Rusty was a combination of stand up comedian, Adam Sandler, meets motivational speaker,Tony Robbins. He had a motivational speaker kind of vibe about himself.  

My take away from my experience at “Real Life Church’s” Easter Service is that this Christian Church is all about community. I get why families see the importance of worshipping with their children, family and friends. There was a sense of camaraderie and of belongingness. It was also confirmed to me that WE are far stronger together than we are SEGREGATED.  There was good energy resonating throughout the entire building. I would personally love to sit down and interview Pastor Rusty; as he’s got a good business model going on that I believe could be duplicated in any industry.

Now, will I return to “Real Life Church” for the Real people? Sure, why not.  Will I become a regular every Sunday church-goer?  Nah! However, I was enlightened and actually left with a better sense of what Easter is and why it’s celebrated Easter.  It’s less about the cadbury chocolate eggs and pas coloring dipped boiled eggs, chocolate covered hallow bunny rabbits and more about Jesus Christ resurrecting after three days, giving his followers hope because of the shedding of his blood. It’s still little murky for me. As a young girl, I would ask my mother questions about Jesus and the bible and she always told me, “We never question the bible”.  That was her way of saying, “Hell if I know and to stop asking her.”  So, here I am today, asking the questions and admitting that I don’t know much about the bible.  However, I am willing to learn; as I have a seeking spirit.

Yahollywoodfitnessgotogurl

@yahollywoodfitnessgotogurl

yahollywoodfitnessgotogurl@gmail.com

Come ride with me!

Yes! I’m now a cyclist

My boyfriend told me now that once I completed my first 25-mile bike ride; then that would make me a cyclist. I said, “As long as I don’t have to wear the matching bike outfit with the clip in shoes and the helmut. Have you seen my hair? This hairstyle doesn’t deserve to be covered under those hideous helmuts. Well, I lost out on the helmut fight. But, at least I found a cute fire engine red helmut to somewhat match my brand new red Fuji bike.

What have I gotten myself into? I haven’t ridden a bike since I was in grade school. Seriously!  And, I’m the one who talks about THOSE bike people who ride their matching outfitted asses in what seems like the middle of the street when I’m trying to get through traffic. They have such a sense of entitlement.  And, they don’t obey the traffic laws. Most of them NEVER stop at stop signs. They slow down at stop lights VS coming to a complete stop. Up until recently ,they didn’t even stop for pedestrians while in the middle of the cross walk. 

I can’t begin to tell you how many times I’ve envisioned myself pulling one of them off of their bikes by the back of their knapsack or jacket, if they came any closer to hitting me while in the cross walk. Then I remember, that I’m no longer that reactionary person and I dial it down.  

Forget about riding my new bike in the street; even in the bike lane. That WAS a No-NO for me. We were recently in Amsterdam, bicycle Capital, when he talked me into renting bikes for a ride through the city. I relented because he told me that we would ONLY stay on the bike path. Within the first three minutes on the bike, I was winded. And here I thought I was in shape. I was exhausted and my tushy hurt for three days afterwards.

Now that I’m back in Santa Monica and have my own bike, I’ve been riding three to four times a week. Yes, me! I even ride in the street a little bit. I ride my bike to work from Marina Del Rey to Santa Monica .  I ride my bike to meet friends for lunch at the 3rd Street Promenade.  When I’m on my bike,  my mood is instantly catapulted into a state of bliss, compassion and utter optimism. It’s such a magical experience.  There’s no other mode of transportation, outside of of this, where you can pull up to an intersection or at a dismount your bike and walk area on the beach bike path, and make small talk with other cyclists.  We sometimes make eye contact, shoot one another that smile that lets you know they too can relate to this amazing feeling of freedom atop of this 2-wheel small metal framed contraption called a bicycle.

Last week, while riding in the bike lane, side by side city buses and cars, I shared the lane with another cyclist. She had on a tank top and was casually cruising along in the same direction as I was.  By the time I caught up with her at the stop light, I was able to pass her up. I called it, “Tag you’re it. “Catch me if you can.  It was soo much fun. At the next stop light, she called out something to me that I couldn’t make out; as I did have to focus on traffic. By the third and final traffic light, we wished one another a safe side and a great day.  As i ride up and down the bike path from Santa Monica to Hermosa Beach, I sometimes lock eyes with people who show their sign of approval with a nod and a smile. It's a whole other wold on the bike.

The older we get, the less easy it becomes to stay open to trying new things.  I’m having fun with my new form of transportation, exercise and leisure.  I lovingly suggest you check out bike riding in your town. You might want to start by simply renting a bike for a couple hours and hitting a bike trail to see if it’s a right fit for you.  Happy riding.

Yahollywoodfitnessgotogurl

@Yahollywoodfitnessgotogurl

yahollywoodfitnessgotourl@gmail.com

When white girls act BLACK

Did you know that you don't own anything in this world. It's all a gif that is given, taken, stolen, borrowed, loaned and TEMPORARY. Every group of people like to take ownership of what they think is theirs. Black people have the patent on:

.  Corn rows

.  Hair Extensions

.  Rap Music

.  Spoken Word

.  R & B music

  Collard and Mustard Greens

.  Blues AND Jazz

while Caucasian American's have the copywrite on:

.  Elvis Presley

.  Rock-N-Roll

.  Janis Joplin

.  The Beatles  And

.  Hamburgers and French Fries

And the Mexicans have cornered the market on:

.  Salsa

.  Menudo

.  Spanish speaking language

.  Corn and flour tortilla   

.  Refried beans

.  Piñata

.  Telemundo

I used to think that whenever someone of another culture liked the same thing that I, as a Black-American woman liked, I would viciously accuse them of wanting to be black.  I would accuse them of being a sell-out. And don't let a Caucasian-American guy have rap skills or play a mean game of basketball. Not only was he TRYING to be black, but he liked black girls to. So, he was okay in my book. lol

Not until I learned to embrace all cultures and the beauty that we all bring to this melting pot of a world we live in, did I start to diminish those close-minded and shallow ways of thinking that really showcased not only my ignorance, but my lack of self-confidence.

It was recently brought to my attention this week, while on my 33rd day of my new yoga practice. I walked in the door of Sweat Yoga and was greeted in the usual cheery way by the lady behind the desk. I was running a little behind as I rushed to get into the room to stake claim on my favorite part of the room. We can be so territorial. lol. I was informed that a new yoga teacher had taken over the 7:45 a.m. friday slot and I was eager to meet her. She is cute, has a lot of energy, blonde, petite with a toned and athletic physique.  I instantly liked her. It was an energy thing. It had nothing to do with anything, but me feeling her energy. There was just something about her.  After ten minutes into the practice, I knew one of the reasons I liked her was we shared similar taste in music. Her playlist was bananas. Oh! By the way, for some of you square heads, bananas means it's:

.  Off the Chain

.  Da' Bomb

.  Good

.  I liked it

The second reason why I liked her was, like me, she likes taking photographs and selfies. Whoo Hoo! She's my kinda girl. She was open to taking pictures and exchanging instagram info.  

While I was holding an excruciating liver twisting...or organ drenching pose as, Deirdre, (my yoga teacher) puts it;  it hit me. I not once judged her for liking Urban music. I noticed she has rhythm and has a little swag about her. I saw my growth and heart openness during my yoga practice.  

I saw an opportunity for me to forgive myself for all of the years of judgement I had towards others; particularly those who were not Black-Americans who liked OUR music. Who liked OUR men. Who hung out at OUR clubs. Who ate OUR soul food.  Who danced OUR dances. Who attended OUR colleges and who wore their hair like we wear OURS.  Who do WE think we are?  We are all spiritual beings having this human experience. The longer we are here, the more evolved we are becoming.  

After all, I like THEIR music. I like THIER community. I like THEIR food.  I like the ALL that is THEM. The ALL that is all of us:

.  Latinos

.  Black-Americans

.  Native-Americans

.  Mexicans

.  Caucasian-Americans

.  Middle Eastern

.  Asians

.  Africans

.  Europeans

Love truly is the New Commodity and yoga is my new healthy addiction. It's more than a practice. It's a lifestyle. Who am I becoming?   lol

Yahollywoodfitnessgotogurl

@yahollywoodfitnessgotogurl

yahollywoodfitnessgotogurl@gmail.com

What does my hairstyle & caucasian women's happiness have in common??

"I just love your hair."  That's what she said to me as she leaned in with a jolly whisper.  "It just makes me happy."  With all that's going on in the world, we need something to make us happy." "Don't you agree?"  She said with a big grin spreading from ear to ear.  I smiled and nodded in the affirmative.

I was sitting inside of my former favorite coffee shop chain "The Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf" in Santa Barbara working, when this jolly faced lady in her mid 60's moved in close to me.  I'm used to people making comments, giving me odd looks and/or  complimenting my hairstyle.  What I still haven't gotten used to, is those people being older caucasian men AND women.  I get more compliments about my hair from older caucasian men; then ANY other ethnic group of people.  They'll say things like:

.  I love that hair do you got going there

.  That's some wild and crazy hair you got there

.  Now you... You're unique!

.  I can tell...you're a wild woman

.  Your hair is art

.  I wonder if I could do that to my hair

 It's just mind boggling to me.  When I think of a sixty, seventy or even eighty-something year old caucasian man's idea of beauty,   long and silky straight hair comes to mind. Obviously, I'm wrong. Maybe if we stop stereotyping people and putting them in a box, we'll all learn something about other cultures. I know what you're thinking.  There Fee King goes with the race thing again.  I'm simply speaking the truth. If they were Native-American or Middle-Eastern people complimenting my hair, I would describe them as such.  Women of color have fought so hard and for so long for the right to wear our hair in it's natural state.  We'v finally gotten some people to stop referring to our hair as the (Negative) Nappy, opting for the more politically correct and softer term of Kinky.

I, personally, find it very flattering that my hairstyle evokes a positive response while making others feel happy.  Because I don't have to spend more than two to three minutes daily combing  my hair  or spend much time at the hair salon, that makes me VERY happy.  If my crazy highlighted fro-hawk hairstyle  makes people happy and smile, I say that's a WIN/WIN. And life can be a WIN/WIN

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@yahollywoodfitnessgotogurl
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Sticks & Stones may break your bones; but names can hurt you too!

Valentine day Is the BIGGEST sham of a Holiday!  C'mon! How sad is it that we believe we need a specially designated day to determine if we love, how we love and then tells us how to show that love, via buying gifts and chocolates. Get the freak outta here.   Valentine Day has to be the most overly commercialized holiday that  has women losing their freakin-A minds over if they get a gift and what kind of gift it is.  Really?  I haven’t been into Valentine day since grade school when my mom bought a bag of those pastel colored heart shaped sweet tarts for me to pass out in class. And the candy was nasty. It was like eating a dry, powdery piece of particle board.  I’m just saying! I always felt like it was too much pressure for me to pretend I liked him more than I really did, for the sake of this one day. And too much pressure for men to buy women shit we really don’t need,  for the sake of justifying his Love, Like or Lust for us. It’s ALL a bunch of crap.  Okay! Glad I got that off of my chest.

I didn’t even realize it was Valentine Day, until I got a call from one of my neighbors.  I was sitting outside of the Coffee Bean in Palm Springs debating on whether I should get a coffee, in near 90 degree weather, minutes before my first 25-mile bike ride.  I decided to answer my cell phone instead to take my mind off of what lay ahead of me.  

The voice on the other end was my neighbor. Initially, I thought something was wrong Dychess, my awesome cat. My neighbor proceeds to share with me a conversation he had with another female neighbor of ours. Some of you may already know this about me and if you’re my neighbor, I hope this doesn’t come as too much of a surprise.  I don’t particularly care for most of my neighbors. They are simply not my cup of tea.  The neighbor phoning me, just so happens to be one of the few that I really like. Not only do I like him, but I have a lot of respect for this guy. He tells me the female neighbor of ours had some very harsh things to say about his character.  According to him, she really hurt his feelings.  It’s not easy for a man to show his vulnerable side; so I knew I needed to lend him my ear. This, coming from a very mature man was touching to me. The fact that he chose to share this with me, confirmed what I already know to be true; which is men do have feelings. They may not show it in the same way that women do.  That’s because they’re from Venus and we’re from Mars. They not only have feelings, but they feel things very deeply.

This particular neighbor of mine, lost a client over the weekend.  He’s having new girlfriend issues.  And then this female neighbor assassinates his character… on Valentine day. WTFreak has the world come to.  I lovingly encouraged him to find a way to smile, be grateful for his life and to not let the opinions of others dictate who he is and how he should behave. After all, look at the source. I’m just saying!

My take away from this experience is that we, women, have to be mindful of how we speak to not only  men, but to one another. You never know when someone is having a challenging time in their life.  We all have something and on any given day, might really be going through the storm. We might also want to be mindful to not project our own stuff onto others. Love is the NEW Commodity!

Yahollywoodfitnessgotogurl - Fee King

@yahollywoodfitnessgotogurl (instagram)

yahollywoodfitnessgotogurl@gmail.com

Get your balls off of my back: Day 26 of Yoga!

I like affection!  There...I said it.  There is no better feeling than someone giving you a hug, a light tap on your arm or a pat on the back.  As of late, the best form of affection is when my yoga teacher comes over to me and pushes the small of my lower back down a litter father helping me to sit back deep into  child's pose.  It's amazing how they are able to squeeze a little more space allowing you to stretch that much further.  When this happens, I can't help but look up to see if the yoga teacher is doing that for anyone else. I don't care of the yogi is male or female; as long as they put their hands on me. It's the narcissist in me. lol

In all truth, we all like to be made to feel that we are special. I am no different. Although I know I am special and not short bus special, but special in my own unique, quirky, gifted and SPECIAL way. It feels good when others acknowledge my specialness.  OR, maybe I'm looking at this the wrong way. Could my  yoga teacher simply be adjusting my form or  pressing my lower bum down because they know I can go further?  I have to rethink this whole thing now. This yoga has me thinking all kinds of things. I guess I need to continue working on my breath.

Yahollywoodfitnessgotogurl - Fee King
@yahollywoodfitnessgotogurl
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Are you the NEW Black?

Today is day 24 of my 30-day yoga journey. I'm up early; as in O'dark thirty; which translates to 6:00 a.m. in order to make my 7:30 a.m. yoga class with Rebecca; who just so happens to be a beautiful woman of color from the East Coast.

Now, I know a lot of you "NEW Black" folks are wondering, why does Fee King focus so much on race, nationality or ethnicity?  I can tell you are the "NEW Black" if you are asking yourself this question. It's because Fee King LOVES contrast. I love that which is different and unique. If we were all made the same, how boring a Nation and World would this be. With these differences, come some obvious truths.  That's what I want to share with my people today.  Not until I recently began my yoga journey, did I fully realize that I, Fee King, am a NOT the "NEW Black". I know this because, here are a few things that the NEW Black do that I don't:

.  They swim
.  They don't have rhythm
.  They aren't athletic
.  They attended an Ivy League School without Financial Aid or a scholarship
.  They put their three and four month old babies in swim classes
.  They eat Raw and Vegan (Exclusively)
.  They've been practicing YOGA for years.

Obviously, I don't know very many of these new blacks; because where I'm from and the era I grew up in such a thing just did not exist.  LOL

The fact that I am loving yoga brings my attention to the fact that I am not alone when I make this statement; which is a lot of people in my previous social circle didn't grow up with an awareness to yoga. I watched a show on "E" network a couple years ago about Ashley Judd. She said her GRANDMOTHER introduced her to yoga. WTF! I didn't dare say this outloud, but I thought yoga was new. I'm going to stop there. No, I'm not showing my ignorance, but my vulnerability. Know the difference between the two.  LOL

I consider myself to be one who straddles the fence between "The NEW and The OLD Black", I am happy to see more Black-American's embracing change. I am happy to see more of my sisters and brothers seeking things, people and opportunities outside of OUR immediate environment. I know some of my foreign transplant sisters and brothas are reading this and saying to themselves, "Hey, Wait a minute. "I can't relate to some of the  things the "NEW BLACKS" can; so I, too, must be a "NEW Black".  To them I say, "Hey! "Watch ya mouth." "You can be your own NEW. But, you can't be "The NEW Black."  That title is taken. Free at last! Free at last. Thank God Al Mighty - we're FREE at last.

I am on a journey that is taking me to places I couldn't even imagine. Today, I am grateful that I stepped out of my comfort zone and my little box that was Omaha, NE- to experience ALL that Is...All that is Possible and ALL that I AM becoming.  I am grateful that I finally surrendered to Yoga. It is by far, the best gift I've given my whole self, in a long time.

I just keep going back because I know it works.

Yahollywoodfitnessgotogurl  - Fee King
@yahollywoodfitnessgotogurl (instagram)
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