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.
Saturday, April 26, 2014
Monday, April 7, 2014
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.
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.
Sunday, April 6, 2014
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.
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!
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!
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