United We Stand

So, I was going to start this blog off talking about all the unholy shit that has gone down over the past few days.

You know: Racist people killing folk, racist leader applauding racist folk, terrorists killing folk...alt right-ers (still racist) threatening to come to my city, statues coming down (should they, shouldn't they?), how the world is going mad...and there's an eclipse...

That stuff.
But I decided that I could jaw all day long about how messed up things are, and it wouldn't make a difference.  I don't need to tell anyone that the world is super messy right now: they can see it, hear it, and feel it.  Some of us, have been living in this dystopia longer than others for reasons that make absolutely no sense under the Law of God but...here we are. No amount of bitching will fix that.  Only human intelligence and compassion can.

I am going to talk about how beautiful people are, instead.  How communities that seemed severed, were brought together in the wake of unspeakable violence.  How pastors stood on the front lines and linked arms.  How people came from near and far to honor a woman who died for the cause of peace, tolerance, and acceptance. How a mother, stricken with grief, was able to muster some sort of Godly strength to celebrate her beautiful child.  To Heather Heyer, we all say thank you for everything.

What I have seen over the last few days, is something that people would say wouldn't happen in a time like this.  I saw people coming together: all colors, all ethnicities, denominations...each consoling the other. I heard songs of joy and hope.  I heard "I will keep you safe."

The actors of Saturday, weren't counting on this.  They were counting on strife, derision, and division.  They thought that terror would drive us further apart and send us fleeing from each other.  They thought we would not trust each other. Of course the surprise is on them. 150 years ago, we fought a war to bring us back together in a "more perfect union."  Did they seriously think anyone would want to do that shit again? Nah, we're good.

In my previous post, I lamented the irony of a United States that was not so united. However, I am seeing through the struggles to be on the right side of history, we become united and bonded even more. I'm not going to tell you that everything is fine or that the nonsense is over, but I am going to say that if we stick together, we can make it through anything.

Don't let them win.

About Saturday

Unless you've been under a rock this weekend, then you probably know about what happened in Charlottesville, Virginia.  If you really don't, for whatever reason, then I'll recap it : White supremacists (lower cased on purpose), attacked counter protesters.

As a result, three people died. My thoughts and prayers are with the families of the young woman and the two officers that were killed.

THIS SHOULD NEVER HAPPEN.

The imagery from Saturday is like being thrown in a time machine and transported back to the 60's.  The ugliness of human kind was on full frontal display. Though ugly and gritty, the truth was also on display; the truth about America and how hate is still dividing a country that is ironically named "The United States of America."

It is easy to say, we will not let hate win.  It is easy to condemn the attacks and the acts of evil and hate filled men and women.  But beyond condemnation, what else can we do? What else will we do? We witnessed a nightmare, but we've had this same nightmare before.  It is recurring, and each time seems to become more real and more violent.  With each replay of the nightmare, some of us wake up.  Others remain sleeping, telling ourselves that it won't happen again but..it always does.  Then, when it's over, we pretend like it didn't happen and go on with our normal routine.

But how many more times does the nightmare have to play out before we realize that there is a problem with the American psyche? That we need help? That something has to change? That we need to fix this?

The first step is admitting that you have a problem...

However, when "leaders" cannot admit there is a problem, then the problem persists.  It will continue to grow and grow, until it is a monster that consumes us all.  So when leaders fail, we the people, take matters into our own hands.

We will continue to fight back and beat back any form of oppression. We will continue to stand for liberty, equality, and justice.

And we will win.

I Said No!

I recently had to break things off with a guy that I  had been seeing just over the course of a month.  At first it seemed promising; we had good conversations and went interesting places.  He had the brains and looks, his own place, and he was well traveled. Sounds great, right?  However, things turned tricky when he wanted to move into a sexual phase of our relationship.  I was still filling him out as a potential, but by the second date he was already sharing his plans to bed me , which made me  uncomfortable.

I asked him to slow down. I explained to him that I was a slow-mover and that I didn't do anything until I was ready. He said he understood but the advances kept coming and I grew even more uncomfortable and uncertain.  He was intense, and while I like my men, to be a bit aggressive, there are boundaries that need to be respected for any relationship to move forward.
  On our last date, when he went in for a kiss, I couldn't. I turned my head, only to have him in my face trying to force me to kiss him, and ask why I wasn't "showing him love." I asked him to only kiss my cheek but he remained close to my face, in attempt to make me turn my head so I would kiss him inadvertently. I didn't. This went on for nearly 5 minutes outside a restaurant, where tons of people were watching. I was both mortified and incensed.  I had told him no several times and he had ignored me.

I stewed over this for a few days, before deciding that I could not continue seeing a person who did not value my personal requests. Refusing a kiss might seem ridiculous to some, but when someone doesn't respect your person, this is a RED FLAG.  An aggressive approach to the word "No," might be a tell-tale indicator of something more troubling...or even potentially dangerous.  Coming from a family where some female family members have experienced physical and sexual abuse by their spouses has taught me to look for the warning signs early on and to not think twice.

The moral of the story; there are two: 1) No always means NO, no matter the circumstance and 2) if something doesn't feel right, run...don't walk away!

Be Safe. Be Informed. Be Strong!

I'm a Ryan. Who are you?

If you have not seen Girls Trip, then I seriously do not know what the heck you are waiting for!

This is not one of those films that people hype up and then it falls flat...this is so worth the 10 bucks! So much so, that I went to see it with my mom one night and was still laughing hysterically again when I went with my date to see it again the next night (yeah...I couldn't believe he wanted to see it either!).

But this post isn't simply an endorsement of the film, it is an examination of how I saw myself in each of the various characters...specifically Ryan (she who has it all).

Before seeing the film, I just knew that Jada's character, Lisa was going to be my spirit animal.  She was demure, covered up, and had this sensible ponytail.  However, (and I am not going to spoil it for folks who haven't seen it), I found out through the course of the film that she was me at a different stage of my life and not someone who I necessarily identify with now.  Sasha (Queen Latifah), was the furthest from who I am, and I tend to stay away from people who embody her gossipy, stuntin', behavior.  Dina...well I can be Dina when I have had 6 shots of Tequila, or have had it up to there with folks, which is funny and scary!

Ryan, and I are birds of a feather; Renaissance women who work hard, have our hands in multiple projects at a time, tend to be the glue of our friendships, and strive for a life near perfection even when things seem to be falling apart.  We're both writers, constantly have mirror talk with ourselves to bolster confidence, and simply want the best for ourselves and others. Sometimes our well meaning words, can hit like blunt force trauma and sting our loved ones.  And we simply don't subscribe to what everyone else thinks or says do, because we are constantly trying to work with what best suits our lives.  We are the women who will hunt down a 4 star hotel with a suite and spa included, but will often hide our feelings for fear of appearing weak or incapable.

This attitude does not always serve us as we can be tearing ourselves apart in the inside when things don't work out as planned. Ours is a personality that can be isolating, because to the outsider it appears we are doing well and don't need help when in reality we're 2 steps away from a full on breakdown.

Ryan's character, represents Black women everywhere who have to always work hard to stay on top in the face of adversity.  The women who statistics say will never marry or have a marriage that ends in divorce.  The women who are more often made to choose between career and family.  The women who are constantly made to prove that the are more than a stereotype. 

But Ryan's character also represents the strength and poise that Black women possess.  Yes, it can be tough, it can get messy, but we can prevail.  By using our smarts and having passion and ambition, we might overcome to become the next Oprah, or the Black Martha Stewart, ensuring that our family becomes financially secure in a world where so many doors still remain closed to them.  Her character is empowerment, despite the hurdles she has to examine and overcome.

And, it is refreshing to see such a shining example of Black Womanhood & Sisterhood portrayed in a film...especially in an industry that is know for only allowing us to be sidekicks an stereotypes. I'll say it again: Go and see it!  When you get back, tell me who you are: Ryan, Sasha, Dina, or Lisa.

Being the only one

Throughout most of my life I have been the only one. The only one who has kinky hair, the only one with brown skin, the only one who doesn't look like they fit their name. I have been the only black child,girl, woman in a sea of faces that generally accepted me but didn't quite understand me.

Some of you may have been the only ones. Maybe you are okay with that. Perhaps you haven't encountered any major problems. If so that's good..;great even! However, you cannot argue that being the only one renders feelings that being the ONLY can. You may have a point when one of your friends is so cool with your otherness that they include you in on all of their secrets, things that are said about your only oneness in the dark.  You may have also encountered a situation where they did not understand why something was offensive and you found yourself having to speak on behalf of all of your people. 

Then there's that whole thing with minimizing.  When you are the only one, sometimes you might find yourself minimizing your otherness as not to call attention to it, though..let's be real: your cocoa skin or thick tendrils make you the elephant in the room.  Sure, you might stay away from saying "Bye, Felicia," so they don't get comfortable...but you know Amber, she dated Dontae'...and at some point, she is going to bring Felicia back!

Being the only one can attract the curiosity level that a bearded lady strikes. Why are you the only one?  Why do you want to be the only one? Are you comfortable with being the only one? Furthermore what do you do when your only oneness literally becomes being a token? Is it because you like White guys? Or are you one of "those" black girls who secretly wants to be White?  These are the questions that I have been asked!

The thing is, sometimes being the only one is not a choice. It just is what it is. Being black doesn't define who your friends are or what you like.And being the only one is not all bad, but it comes with a duty to establish certain boundaries when things get complicated or things get uncomfortable.

Sometimes being the only one is a blessing because it allows others to see just how unique we truly all are.

Don't Forget Who You Are: An Ode to Liz:One Kick-Ass Granny

My Great Grandmother has been dead for 12 years.

As a child, our interaction was amiable at best.  She was feisty, and I was docile. In her day, she'd whoop your ass (and if you got close enough to her...she still would...she was blind in older age); in my day I would fight because I had to, but I really didn't want to.  Two different sides of a coin-but nevertheless bonded by blood and understanding.

I think we were exactly what each of the other wanted to be. However, time and circumstance made her the tough one and me the victim.  She grew up during the Depression era, the first generation of  us who would become Pittsburghers.  Her family had come from Montgomery, Alabama, following the seduction of steel mill jobs with decent pay. She had to make her way...she was black, poor, and a woman; the three strikes that often determine whether you make it at all. Her first child died....a boy who was stillborn, when she was 15 or 16.  He was buried in a shoebox in an unmarked grave, on their property I am assuming,  By 17, she was married to a man from Georgia, who was already married to someone else...she didn't know She would bear two girls by him, one of whom is my bff (my grandma) and he would leave her for a town in Ohio...re-marry and have more children. A single parent, with 3 little girls to care for in a segregated country, she struggled...but as they say "she persisted."

She was tough, but she had this sweet little voice that said "Love is Tough." One minute she might be feeling your head to feel "all that glory." The next she might call you a hussy if you sassed her and  didn't do what she said in a timely manner.  I got both of those.  I didn't sass her, because my great grandmother scared me shitless. There was something about  her that commanded dignity, respect, and honor.  There was something about her that said, "if you don't follow the rules, I will make you understand why you should have." That was her way. Her "granny voice" was cute but it carried the air of an all knowing queen. We treated her as such.  When she needed to go to the "Love Room" as she commonly referred to it, there was no hesitation in who would take her. Someone would link her arm to theirs, lead her there, allow her to do her duty, and lead her back down the stairs.  When her glass needed to be freshened, you didn't ask if she needed ice cubes---you just put those suckers in there and filled it up with her favorite beer. Ah, yes she was a lady and a Queen, but she was no dainty flower...and she'd let you know!

 Elizabeth or Liz (as she liked to be called), was a woman who had to make it on her own terms.  She never talked much about growing up in her household...but mainly about school and her neighborhood on Pittsburgh's Northside.  She talked about the scuffles she had been in; one in which she had a girl knock a stick off her shoulder to challenge her to a fight (a Depression era fight code)...or that time when she punched a woman off of a bar stool for trying to flirt with my (step) great -grandfather, who she never legally married because they were both still married to other people. She laughed about these things; a sweet, warm, laughter.  This was her as a rogue, as a youngin', as a rebel.  Yet, when she was telling these stories, she always found a way without directly saying it, to impart to my brothers, cousins, and I, that we should not behave in this way.  She gave us candy and pop as an incentive for good behavior.  Since she was blind, she would take her wallet from her pillow case, pull out a bill and ask which number it was.  If it was the amount she wanted to give, which was always greater than $1, it was yours to keep.

When we talked, just her and I, we mostly laughed. This was of course when I got older, into my later teens. We shared jokes, stories, and she asked me about school. She always wanted to know how my grades were, what I was doing.  When I got to college, she couldn't be prouder. She couldn't come to my high school graduation but she wanted to know what I wore, how my hair was styled, and what color my robe was.  She was fascinated. I wish she she could have actually see me then. Our last conversation, happened two weeks before she died. We had just moved her into a new housing complex for senior citizens.  She and I were sitting in the hallway chatting about...everything. Laughing about how she called Duquesne beer "Du-Quincy".  I just remember her laughing, her dark sunglasses on her nose, her beautiful straight gray hair braided into two cornrows;that she always did herself.  She did not let her blindness stop her from ANYTHING. There was something about her that day, that seemed so peaceful.

She died at the age of 77 in January of 2005. A shock to us, who thought our kick-ass granny would live to be 100 at least.  We think she caught a cold. My heart was broken. , I felt like I was just getting to know her, really, after a whole life time of knowing her. I had so many questions to ask her, which would now be only whispered to the ears of Heaven.

My Gran, as I called her, is still alive in my heart. I hear her laugh, smile when I see her smile in my mind, and she comes to visit in my dreams.  Her message: never forget who you are.
Time may pass but I'll never forget who she was and who she made it possible for me to be. She had to be tough so I could be something.

30 is the new 20?

Life happens...that's why this blog hasn't happened since last year.

A lot has changed. My career, my hair, my goals...surprisingly not my relationship situation, though! Hey 3 out of 4 ain't bad!

On Turkey Day this year, I will be the big 30! It is an exciting time for me. While once upon a time I thought that I'd be in tears as it approached, I'm actually looking forward. Maybe now I will actually get those things done that I need to. On the other hand it is bittersweet because I never had the so-called 20's experience, but I am determined to make my 30's a happening time.

I don't want 30 to be the new 20 for me. I don't want do-overs. I simply want a fresh start and a clear path to an already promising future.

Life is what you make it. Make it how you want!