Take two

As I have searched for a year now, to pinpoint the direction I envision for this blog, I have noticed that on a personal level, I have not shied away from political or racial debates. Once rather quiet and only speaking of these issues with confidantes, I  can no longer can remain silent. After the previous year election, I’d quietly insisted this blog would be a space, free from political commentary. At present time, I am not so sure of that. I vow to write those nagging thoughts that usually I debate over and over in my mind. Whether they are racially charged, political, or lighthearted, this space is an extension of that inner voice, no longer silent, I am thinking out loud and fearlessly sharing those thoughts with you.

oh..the feels

I think we can all agree, its been absolutely too long since my fingers have glided across the keyboard.  When I first began blogging, I remembered stumbling across a few blogs, liking them and suddenly the blogger disappearing into the blogosphere. Often times I wondered, where they went and vowed, that would never be me.  Oh, how that changed, my last post was published in September 2015. However, before that, my writing and posts came to an abrupt halt.  Once feeling that this blog, whilst public, was a safe space; I lost that comfort, during that summer of the same year. It was quite a tense time and afterward, whilst still passionate about writing, I became very uneasy about sharing. After logging into my account today, I decided, it’s time for a new start.  You will see my blog undergo numerous changes (blog name, cover photos, etc) as I write about life. Although I will try not to become too political (given the countries current circumstances, that will be difficult), I will write what makes my heart, both cry and sing. I have missed interacting with each of you and hope that as I continue/restart this journey, that you will read with abandon.   I look forward to your dialogue and companionship. Stay tuned, there is so much to discuss.

Race…Matters

Isn’t it “funny”

those whom possess richly hued melanated skin, often referred to as African American, are unjustifiably feared more than any man? They don’t form lynch mobs nor march through streets with high powered weapons exercising their “right” to open carry. They don’t line City Halls forming a crew cut line-now donning masks with rifles in hands. Lest I remind you of Americans Hi(S)tory and the complexion that made slaves and raped women, beat bodies while stringing others from trees, burned crosses, wore hoods and terrorized the night?  And yet, our very complexion is viewed as the ultimate indiscretion, something we are not so simply born with, has been weaponized repeatedly in the name of fear; conscious of the Caucasian cleared as they kneel on our necks, beat our broken bodies, follow us from stores or as we jog, provoke an argument because music is too loud, execute us as we play, reach for a wallet or even whilst we’re already restrained.

Aren’t you tired!

Tired of…
the ever growing list of photo captioned names, beautiful children and women and men that prematurely and unjustly were taken from their loved ones far too soon. Aren’t you tired?!
of their names
temporarily trending as a hashtag followed by heated discussion and waves of rage that quickly simmer until it happens again. Aren’t you tired of the many ways to justify; digging up and searching for any offense to slander them in death. Aren’t you tired of those that say, despite it caught on “tape” wait until the whole story comes out, don’t rush to judgment.

Because, for YEARS…

 

 

I

have BEEN tired

 

and angry

 

and hopeless

and

 

 

helpless

I think of…
my sister’s, brothers, uncles, cousins, nieces and especially my nephew’s.

My absolutely amazing nephew’s, the youngest being THREE weeks old as I cradle him in my arms, holding him…

CLOSE, completely in love, frozen-in fear. My perfect nephew WITH increasing melanin, knowing that no matter how much I nurture him, by the time he is 9, 10, 11, or even 12 years old, many will no longer see him as a child-remember Tamir Rice? Tears form in my eyes as I kiss his tiny feet; feet that I’ve been obsessed with since the day he came home from the hospital, knowing I have to prepare him for how the world will perceive his “blackness.” I am in complete awe that he has grown TEN inches in 18 days and yet simultaneously shudder, knowing that similarly to George Floyd, he will be a gentle giant. And then…

I’m helpless

AND

aNgRy

all over AGAIN…….

as I hold him in my arms and whisper in his ear,  “let the world burn, I will kick in every system rooted in racism, I won’t lose you, you will grow up in a world, where your life, matters” I am tired and…no matter your ethnicity, you as a human,  should be tired of this injustice too!

Twilight Zone

As I sit and type this post with a flawless complexion, compliments of  La vie en Rouge and H.E.R “Hard Place” plays in the background, I still feel as though I’ve entered a never ending Twilight Zone. In today’s episode, I decided to go for a walk with Soon hee-my super cute 5.8 lb Yorkshire terrier. Soon hee, if you must know, is quite observant-which is attributed to her separation anxiety.  Lately, it has come to her attention, that anytime a mask is on my face, it means that she or I, will be walking out the door. In a world, that in every corner, a mask has become the norm, we went on a walk. During our walk, it was observed that about half of those leisurely about, were wearing masks and apparently the other half are convinced that they are immune to COVID or that its does not exist at all.

Conversations with my Mother

A few weeks ago, my heart was extremely heavy, thus I turned to my mother to have a very poignant conversation. I posed a simple yet charge filled question, “Are you disappointed in me or any of my siblings? My mother’s response was instantaneous and filled with love “No, I am not disappointed in any of my children, granted there have been choices made that I wouldn’t agree with, but those are you all choices to make and thus if any consequences come from them, they are your consequences to bear”

 

As I consistently reflect on this conversation, I am reminded that this is not always the case.  Granted, parents, at least most, work to teach and instill values into their children.  They want them to remember and embrace their culture, educate them to be sufficient, kind, respectful and loving.  However, as children become adults, we tend to sift through what our parents have taught us; adjusting, adapting and adopting certain lessons, chucking others and remain undecided on a few.  Nevertheless, a parent hopes the root of what they taught their children, not only remains but is perhaps passed down to another generation.  And sometimes, it is us, the children, that offer valuable lessons to our parents that aide in their spiritual or personal growth.

 

As we grow, it is inevitable that the lessons will shift and the tables will turn.  Perhaps close mindedness becomes acceptance, discrimination eventually becomes respect for all cultures/people and hardness is softened with laughter. As I continue to navigate adulthood ( I can hardly believe I am an adult now), I’ve learned a very poignant lesson and in particular, over the last five years; not only am I a product of my environment, I’ve begun to succeed certain values. I’ve had conversations with my mother that have caused her to be open about other points of view. I’ve taught her about other cultures, languages and food. She has also come to respect the difference in cultures (her visit to  South Korea was eye opening, I’ll write a follow up post on this later). Isn’t the mark of successful parenthood, is not only to instill but also to learn and realize that perhaps antiquated views should be left in the past? I absolutely love and respect my mother and our conversations have helped me through some very difficult times. I have and am becoming a wonderful person, largely because of the way I was reared.  And for that, I have my mother to thank.