Excited About Conversation!

So I'm utterly excited.
No, I haven't gotten a new a job or leash on life. Nothing that serious! But I am excited because next week I get to see THE Michelle Norris in my hometown next week all thanks to one of my best buds who secured tickets for me (thanks Cathy!).

If you don't know who Michelle Norris is then it's time to learn. She is this amazing woman who is a host on NPR and the author of one of my favorite reads, The Grace of Silence: A Memoir. There is obviously a lot fascinating stuff in her book but since she is so awesome, I am going to leave it to my readers to find out more and read it on their own ;).

I am excited to see Michelle Norris coming to my hometown mainly because she is going to talk about something that never seems to cease tongues wagging: race.  Yup, the big "R" word in the room.  In fact, the title of the talk/event is called Eavesdropping on America's Conversation About Race.  While I'm not 100% sure about all that will be discussed, I am certain it will be an evening of enlightened thought, and also maybe somethings that will draw the public's attention back in from where it once waned.

What I think I am most excited about is that Michelle Norris is an example of a woman of African-American background, who has utilized her education not only to excel in her career, but also to take the time out to educate others. Whenever, I see someone like her, I am reminded that yes, even at the ripe old age of 28 (shhh...) it's still ok to have heroines, people to aspire to. Not to mimic their accomplishments in any fashion or sort but to say, yes she is like me, she is someone who has done the very thing I am striving to do. If she can do this I can.

Furthermore, I love that she is speaking about something that has generally been relegated to African-American males scholars to dissect, critique, decipher, and lecture upon.  Not to say that there hasn't been women such as Melissa Harris-Perry, Dr. Julianne Malveaux, and bell hooks, that have lectured on the subject or brought it to the forefront. It just seems that largely, the mere topic of race and racism has been something reserved for the male mind and dialogue as if women of color have in fact been less impacted.

What I am hoping is to learn more about maybe a hidden(?) conversation about race in America. In some ways I am hoping to be proved wrong about things being just as structured and ridiculous as they were 50 years ago. I am hoping more than anything that I am given some insight to take home with me that I can perhaps touch upon when I feel like I need to.

But again, I am just really excited to actually see Michelle Norris. I'm a nerd...so what! :)

A Natural Woman

For those of you who read my musings, you know that I have a slight fascination with hair.  With that being said, I have finally come to a point in my life where I have decided to go natural--back to my wavy, curly, birth mane.

Like all things, it's a process.  It's been a little over a month since my hair has a had no chemical in it and I've kept it braided down for the most part. I wouldn't have dared taken the big chop like some of my brave friends have...with my round tomato head, my varied hair texture, and my widow's peek, short just ain't it!

But I am enjoying seeing those beautiful waves rise underneath my braided up do.  It's been like seeing an old friend you never thought you'd see again.  I get excited when I think about how wonderful it will be when all of natural hair has grown out and the relaxer is gone.  I think about the different styles I will do and how much healthier and fuller it will be once it is free to be so.

But mostly, I think about why I altered my naturalness in the first place.  I didn't get my first relaxer until I was 18. Prior to that I had to endure the straightening comb, the inevitable undoing by the school swimming pool and the rain, and thousands of classmates, boys, and even family members opinions about why I should permanently straighten it. Most of the reasoning behind the comments was that I had too much hair and it was coarse. I chose to get it straightened so it would be more manageable.  Back in the late 90's and early 2000's there wasn't much embracing of natural hair...especially when you were a teenager. We were consumed by Aaliyah's wraps, Beyonce's curls, and TLC's different colored hair and varied tresses. If you came to school looking natural, you were likely to get called nappy, clowned, and don't even think about a guy trying to ask you out!

As an adult woman, of course I look back and wish I could tell my kid self to put that box of Motions relaxer back on the shelf and learn how to braid and twist my long lengths.  My hair was down to my shoulders back then and was beautiful, now at twenty eight it sheds and thins when it get close to my shoulders due to dyeing and relaxing. As an adult woman, I not only see the damage chemicals have done to my hair but also the damage that was done to my spirit by letting others dictate what my mane should look like. I also understand that once I became relaxed, I began to not only lack discipline in my hair care regimen, but other areas in my life as well.

People think that hair is just an object of vanity but to some people it is sacred and an indicator of health status.  As a teen I lived a fun and worry free life and my hair grew long and strong; as an adult my life became fraught with so many uncertainties and my hair became just that: uncertain and unpredictable. As I changed, so did my tresses...as I became unsure...they became frail.

This is why it was important for me to make the decision to get back to my natural self. By nurturing it and letting it be, I am allowing not only it to grow as it was but also journeying a long with it. No more will I be consumed with wanting to be accepted because I accept myself.  Though my tendrils may now have a few gray strands among them (they do, I've seen them), I get to go back and grab an important piece of myself that I thought that I left behind. My hair harkens back to my origins; my ancestors from Angola, the Middle East, the Rappahannock tribe, and Ireland.  My journey back to it is my journey back to them; my homage and thanks for blessing me with abundance.

I look forward to the journey and will be investing in a lot of Shea butter products! :)




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Waiting for Mr. Right Now vs. Mr. Right

A few hours ago, I was informed by a guy that I had been seeing for a little over a month that he "really didn't want to date anyone right now."

I would like to say that I was stunned but I wasn't.  He had been exhibiting all the classic signs of a boy (yeah I said it) which were pulling back when things were getting serious: delayed text messages or skipping days of communication, not wanting to know more about my life than was already disclosed, wanting to spend time at home, and being "too busy" to make plans with me. In fact, had I not broached the subject with him about him seeming disinterested anymore, he would not have even provided me with the above information.  It would have just fizzled out.

That's how boys do it.

What did stun me was that he was very good at being misleading and that I avoided all red flags until after the moment when he admitted he was just playing.  I ignored the way he jealousy guarded his time for television shows and video games.  I ignored the his criticism of me when I didn't know about certain things that he did. I ignored his failure to acknowledge how attractive I looked when he saw me until the very end.  I ignored the way he described himself as gentleman (usually men who have to tell you that they are such, are not indeed).

I ignored these red flags because I was so enthralled with his good looks, his charm, his education, his occupation, and the fact that he seemed to be very interested in what I thought about him and how he could improve---a trait that I had honestly never witnessed in any man I have dated.

What I did was become taken with half of what I always wanted and forgot the small parts that really mattered in the long run.

So often as black women, we settle for less than what we deserve.  We think to ourselves, "Well there is a shortage of brothas and if I get one who seems to have it all going on, then I need to snatch him up!" So we settle, taking things like finances, occupation, and education in precedence to things like family values, good morals, and genuineness.  And then we fall short; short of a man meeting our true expectations, short of ourselves, and then we are hurt.

We are conditioned to believe that there is this shortage of black men out there and even a smaller percentage of them are good brothas.  We are conditioned to believe that if a brotha ain't an engineer, doctor, or lawyer... that brotha ain't shit. We are conditioned to believe that in order to achieve the American Dream of marriage that we have to take all of the bad with the good; they are men and that's the way it is. In essence, we are taught not just as black women but as women in general that men will be dogs regardless, and in order to keep a dog loyal to you , you must accept it's nature.

I'm giving that  big HELL NO. Call me bitter and maybe a bit angry but if I didn't learn anything today, I surely have learned (hopefully) for the final time that you mustn't cater to a dog. If you see the red flags...RUN. When you meet a man, lay your expectations out from the door. If he's worthy he'll stay, if not he wasn't for you. Never, ever, ever, compromise what you truly want just because he has SOME of what you want.

Modern Black Women: We're better than this. Stop settling for Mr. Right Now and wait on Mr. Right!

Brown and Down: We Got The Blues Too

This week has been a little rough on me.  From vehicle issues to having my bank card information compromised, I haven't been feeling exactly chipper.  In fact, there are many times where I feel myself down in the dumps sometimes for days at a time.


In my previous post, I talked about My Happiness Project, which is more of a mental listing exercise to highlight positive things in life to bring up my mood.  While this definitely works for me, I know plenty of people who's suffering is far to great for the project to conquer.  Many of these people are young, African-American women, such as myself.   African-American women are a segment of the population that suffer with depression and almost are overlooked. The National Alliance on Mental Illness reports that "Many African American women do not seek treatment because it is viewed as a personal weakness, not a health problem. Only 12 percent of African American women seek help and/or treatment."
(http://www.nami.org/Content/NavigationMenu/Mental_Illnesses/Women_and_Depression/Depression_and_African_American_Women_Fact_Sheet.htm)


The organization also goes on to state that  Caucasian Americans tend to suffer more often from the illness but African-American women tend to suffer more severely and persistently. The cause of this stems from many factors such as societal and environmental factors, having to deal with racism as a part of everyday life, economic factors, and even the legacy  and shame of slavery that is still felt in the African-American community.  Black women are less likely to get help due to appearing crazy (which is a stigma that figures largely in our own community), weak (as the article suggests), and because it is costly. Because of these factors, we often suffer in silence or are perceived as angry and lazy. Unfortunately with a delay in treatment or misdiagnosis (which happens more often than not), the consequences could be fatal as depression and suicide often go hand in hand.  With so much pressure surrounding us to be the strong ones, many of us hide until it is too late. 


I write this in memory of two lovely women that I never met: Karyn Washington, the creator of For Brown Girls and Mia Fuqua, a friend of a friend who was very much involved in the Confessions of a Modern Black Woman forum on Facebook.  Both of them made a deep impact in the lives of others in their short time here on earth and left too soon. 


I do not know what these two women were battling when they decided that they couldn't take it any longer, all I know is that this is a cause that is near and dear to my heart. We are not invisible, we have pain too.  However, we as a community need to do our part in ridding ourselves of this notion that we are so stoic and have experienced so greatly that nothing harms us.  We are not completely desensitized... and we are human.


As Modern Black Women, we must begin to understand that no stigma or stereotype is greater than the importance of our health and well being.  It is essential that if we are feeling sad and blue that we make every effort to get the help and treatment that is needed, especially if depression is interrupting our lives.  If you don't feel comfortable talking to a healthcare provider at first, talk to a trusted family member or friend. If you don't feel comfortable there and you believe, then talk to your Creator. Talk to me! Know that you are not alone.


And as always, know that things can and will get better! Remember the Happiness Project and that somebody loves you.

DREAMS FROM MY UNCLE: Reflections of Uncle Steve

Black women are often looked at by society as having daddy issues.  More than half of us come from fatherless homes, or homes where daddy is usually a weekend fixture.  That being said, it has been assumed more times than not that we are a lost cause; that because we didn't have our daddies in our everyday lives, that we are destined to continue that same cycle and make poor choices regarding men.  Furthermore, in society's eyes, at least American society, our so-called daddy issues also predicate what kind of women we become...society says we are the gyrating, twerking, women that you see in music videos. We are the women who disregard the educated man and go for the hustler...all because of daddy issues.  What society fails to notice and impart is that we don't necessarily need a daddy to make up our minds about what's best for us and our future.  We don't need male influence, but when we do have it, it comes from other positive male figures.


Mine came mostly from my uncles: Terry, Steve, and Theo. It is not that my father was not there, but when I think of who had and still has considerable influence over me and the molding of my life, these are the men.


Uncle Terry and Uncle Theo are still among us. They are characters; funny,handsome, bright, and have each played a role in the shaping of their now 28 year old niece.  Whether it was staying up all night with me in the fourth grade to study for a black history competition or simply sending cards to celebrate all of my accomplishments, they made sure that I knew that I was a gem; a blessed, young, black, woman, with endless possibilities that should never be compromised by foolishness.


To talk about Uncle Steve, is hard. I find that whenever I talk about him, I am starting backwards. In May of 1993, I was 7 years old, when I heard the earth shattering news that my uncle was taken from this world by someone who was child himself.  Uncle Steve was only 22 and while my young mind was still developing, I felt the pain of someone who had known death many times over.


Standing in front of his casket, I was distraught. I could not understand why someone would want to take my uncle from me and my family. My little mind could not make sense. He was the uncle that I had the least amount of time with but made the most profound impact on my life.  He was my babysitter, my confidant, my playmate, and my protector in addition to being my uncle. He was the man who taught me how to cross my legs like a lady, wipe my mouth daintily (which was maybe a product of television shows he watched :)), and made sure that I understood that I was precious. Uncle Steve was instrumental in helping me to develop my worth from a young age.


As a child, of course I would not be able to have in depth conversations with him about culture, religion, and politics but I always knew where he stood.  As I got older, I was able to talk more to my mom and his friends more about his thoughts as young black man.  I was saddened to learn that he wanted to go to college but did not have the opportunity; I was enlightened to know that though he didn't, he pushed many of his friends to go and supported them morally to succeed.


In talks with his friends and with my mom (his sister), I learned that Uncle Steve had a lot of pride in being an African-American, and that he was always striving to learn more about his people, where they came from, and how to help his people get ahead in the world.  I knew that this was true because when my brothers and I were children, he did his best to instill in us positive images about our culture.  He was also a member of the Nation of Islam around the time that he died.
I can recall once when I was playing with my Barbie dolls, that he had asked me when I was going to come to the Mosque to play with the Barbie's there.  I had no idea with a Mosque was... and politely asked that he bring the Barbies home :)!


The lessons I learned from Uncle Steve were simple yet cherished lessons that I carry with me always: 1) behave as lady, 2) education is priority, 3) be proud of who you are and where you came from and 4) never settle for less because you are greater than that.


Looking back over the small yet precious time I spent with my uncle, I realize that daddy issues only persist if you let the literal definition of dad interfere with your growth.  Don't get me wrong; there is nothing comparable to a father's love, but when you have had someone like Uncle Steve who is willing to be that role model/father figure...it's all good.


It has been 21 years since I last looked upon the my handsome uncle's face, 21 years since he last told me to have a seat when I called myself jumping up and down in a dress...21 years since I last looked upon his face for approval.  However, I see his face even when I don't recognize it, hear his voice in my own, and know that he is there. 


I hope that I am doing everything that he wished for me and that he is proud. 

My Happiness Project

As much as I have done and overcome in my short 28 years on Earth, I still find that I am indeed my own worst critic. My successes are short lived, only because I am constantly pushing myself to reach the next plateau. I think it may be the product of coming form the whiny and sometimes wandering millennial generation.  However, I also think that my projections come from being a black woman who has achieved many things that society sometimes deems it impossible for me to do.


Since I was a child, I found myself fighting a stereotype that I had yet to be confronted with.  It was something that was unseen at the age of five, but one that my parents, family members, and teachers had prepared me for.  At this age, half my mind was filled with all things Barbie related while the other was slowly developing a consciousness about my blackness,what it meant to be black, and how I had to not be what others expected.  In some ways, having this consciousness helped me to excel in many areas of my life.  However, as I have gotten older, it has become a battle. Being the black girl who does it all sometimes leads to isolation among my peers; not being able to do it all depresses me.


Over the past few weeks, I have become increasingly frustrated because life isn't changing as fast and as wonderful as I like it to.  I know, I know; I need to suck it up and be an adult! Still it is easier said than done when one has had this idea in their mind that they are deadest on.  As a reliever to my distress, I decided that whenever I started to feel that woe was indeed me, I will take out a piece of paper and list all the blessings and positive things in my life.  It may sound stupid but it definitely works; the trick is that even if your mind is thinking of a negative counter to that previous positive thought, you must move on an find yet another good thing.  I can list big things like having a vehicle or things that we take for granted like sight and smell. When I run out of things, which takes me a while to do, I can say to myself at least for a while that things are not that bad after all.


I highly recommend this exercise to all of the ladies black or white who feel like life is kicking their butts. I think if we all took a little more time to think about our blessings, we'd find out how truly fortunate we really are.

If you can feel it, do it

Over the past month and a half, I have been consumed with all things Zumba.  Therefore, my writing and blogging has taken a bit of a back seat. I realized that so here I am with a bit of an update on what's been happening.


Over the weekend of March 7th-9th, I was in Rockville, Maryland to become licensed to become a Zumba instructor. Yes, yours truly is now licensed to get butts in shape. However, this was not the only big change in my life; I finally got over my fear of driving alone out of state.


I know that this may not sound like such a big deal, but it was to me. I have been a late bloomer in life with many things my peers have already done. I didn't get my drivers license until two weeks before I turned 27 and got my first car a few months later. I also have yet to be out on my own. While that may seem somewhat pathethic, when you add about 70,000 bucks in school loans, you would have trouble moving out too.


However, everything happens for a reason, and you have to take your time. I do not complain because I have been blessed with so many other things and I know it's only a matter of time before I make that next leap. I was delayed with things such as a vehicle because I wasn't ready. Then I got it and still had to take sometime before I made my 3 and1/2 hour journey. All this was perfect because someday I want to relocate to Maryland and I now know how to get there. As I drove down, I felt a sense of peace that I had never felt. It was me, God, and my car and I knew I'd be just fine. I also began to think about what made me so fearful in the first place and discovered that doubt had been holding me hostage long enough. I am also becoming increasingly aware that my journey is unique; not the same as anyone else's and that I will do all that I need in time.


Going back to my journey to becoming a Zumba instructor...five years ago, I would have never imagined that I would even consider such a path. It took an awesome teacher, last year, to light that fire in my heart. I had never really been an exercise fanatic, but when I started to pack on weight ,developed high blood pressure, and hated the way I looked I knew I had to do something and Zumba seemed to be the answer. That was five years ago. I haven't started to formally teach yet but I am thrilled that I get to help other people get healthy and enjoy their lives. I am so happy to see how far I've come:


Another thing I have finally come to realize and accept is that it is perfectly ok to follow your first mind in any life situation. My view is that your first mind is God's mind. So many times we allow ourselves to second guess, or think that we have to be accommodating to people or situations when it is not good for us. If you can feel it...and it's good, go for it...do it.  If not, don't look back...just keep pushing forward with purpose.


Looking forward to blogging regularly again!

The Thick Girl Sees the Light

For most my life, I have been thick. If being thick sounds strange to you then let me just say it is the happy medium between thin and fat; that is you are full figured in all the "right" places.  

When you are a thick girl in the black community, you get mad props from guys and skinnier girls who didn't "get it from their mama" might hate but they aspire to be thick like you.  You look great in everything from a pair of jeans to a dress, due to the fact that you can fill it out and you have curves and you become the subject de amor of rappers. In short being thick is great.

I was thick until 2005 when I walked into my doctors office for my annual physical and he told me I weighed 205 lbs.  That was a startling change from when I had last weighed myself, which to be honest maybe was two years prior to that.  Then I was a thick yet petite 135 lbs which looked awesome on my 5ft 3 in frame even though BMI says I should have weighed 10 lbs less. My doctor, always good natured and confident that I would lose the weight, simply told me that I needed to get into some exercise and watch what I ate. I agreed, but didn't heed his advice until I was almost 220 lbs within two years.

The strangest thing was that I had never even thought anything of it.  Yes I realized that my clothes were getting snugger, my sizes were increasing, and that I didn't walk as fast as I used to. Still, I was ok with what I perceived in the mirror, I was still thick right? Full figured, plus sized, nothing wrong with that. There was nothing wrong until neighbors started to tell me that I had become "healthy" which was a nice way of saying I was fat and when my boyfriend of six years told me that I could stand to lose a few pounds.

I was no longer thick, I was fat and I began to feel every inch of it from standing next to thinner friends who I used to share clothes with to almost taking up a seat and a half on the bus. At 25, people began to think I was much older. I began to suffer from severe depression, sleepless nights, and my hair began thinning and falling out...mostly due to the stress and being unhappy.  But there was something else: I had been diagnosed with a thyroid disorder and high blood pressure which contributed even more to weight gain. The doctor was adamant this time: lose weight or be on medicine and possibly have to get your thyroid removed.

I knew I needed to do something and that I would never lose weight if I trusted myself to exercise at  home. So in 2011, I joined a gym and discovered Zumba. While I lost about 30 lbs, I kept yo-yoing because I didn't add the one element that is most needed: a healthy diet.  Finally in 2013, I adapted a healthy diet and regular exercise plan which includes Zumba, Yoga, and Weight lifting to reach my goal of 170 lbs by my 29th birthday this year. In changing my eating and exercise habits, I have noticed that my hair is growing back very thick and healthy, I have more energy, I sleep better and I have a more positive outlook on life. I am also now saving up to become a Zumba instructor so I can impact someone else's life.

I should mention that my goal is not to be skinny, it is to be healthy and you can be healthy and thick. Right now, 58% of African-American women are obese and we have higher death rates than Caucasian women due to illnesses such as heart disease, breast cancer, and hypertension.  This is a serious problem that can be fixed if we are educated about managing our weight, and eating right.

I'm still not where I want to be physically but I know that as long as a I stick to the plan I will get that thick, healthy, and beautiful body back very soon :)

It's A Different World...Than Where I Come From

Don't ask me what I was doing as a 7 year old watching a show about college kids with grown up problems. Bottom line: that was my show!

In the late 80's and very early 90's, the Cosby Show, A Different World, and the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air were really the only television shows that I knew of that depicted minorities in an educated and positive light. In addition to the wisdom of my grandmother, mom, and uncles, the shows helped my still small yet developing brain understand that success in life is only achievable by hard work, an education, and pride in one's self and accomplishments.

Not only did these shows show that minorities are and can be educated individuals, it also showed that we were...people! I say this because if you look at television shows prior to the 70's that featured African-Americans and other minorities, we were usually primarily portrayed as maids, criminals, or just always down on our luck.  There was no room for romance, weddings, college degrees, mansions...no room for success. Granted that the lives that the people lived on these shows weren't the lives that my mother and her brothers lived growing up in the exact same era as the stars of these shows, they still gave a sense of hope and a positive image.

Even though I started college some ten years after A Different World went off the air, I still carried the image of what I had seen on that show with me.  If I had to identify with a character, I'd have to say I was a cross between the revolutionary Freddie and the southern-belle Whitley (without the money). I yearned for the undying love of a man like Dwayne and to have the ambitious nature of Freddie (who very much like me changed her mind half way through college about what she desired to be). However, going to an women's, Catholic, liberal arts, university wouldn't necessarily give me all that ...but it was nice to think about anyway!

Anyway, to my point: it's a totally different world than where I came from in the 90's. There are no shows that showcase black universities, or showcase African-American students or young people in positive light. Instead we live in an era of reality piss (yeah I said piss because thats what it is). We live in a world of fast money, a denial of culture, and still a very low achievement gap in schools for minority students.

A lot of young people I come across, are simply passing through when it comes to education.  They know they have to graduate in order to be able to get some kind of job, but are not concerned about their futures as a whole.  They are not aware or do not want to be aware of their impact on the world. Many have given up hope. The sad thing is that many of these same young folks are the ones who has been desensitized by media images of nothingness. They have not been taught their history because it's no longer required or has been absorbed into the whole of American history. While OUR history is American history, it is a history that is filled with so much information, tragedies, triumphs, and glorious lessons that it cannot and SHOULD NOT be relegated to a few chapters in a book. 

That is why A Different World still means so much to me; it was a sitcom but also an educational piece. Where else could you see the drama of a freshman romance unfold while learning about Lena Horne, or the transatlantic slave trade? 

Not to get on my old lady soapbox but I really think that the youth of today could benefit from a show like this now. They are the ones that consume that majority of the media so why not? Maybe then, just maybe, we would see a change in the collective consciousness of the community as a whole. Maybe then we would see the new leaders because as cliche' as it is:They are the future.

It is a different world than where I and my friends come from. At 28, I am beginning to see that what I thought of as progress is nothing if you didn't get it by being a housewife or a rapper. It is sad but not hopeless. 

It just really is...different.