Wednesday, August 3, 2016


Habits don't have to always be bad. They can be a place of growth and stability (as ironic as that sounds). They can be a starting point.

I've had quite a bit of time today to sit, meditate, read, laugh, cry, and reflect. I've been able to look back at this past year and acknowledge both the challenges and moments of resiliency. Both considered, I'm still here and I'm still okay.

That being said, I want to continue some habits and start some new ones.
I want to continue living as honestly as possible. I want to continue pursuing and sharing my truth. The most powerful thing that I've done these past couple of years is reclaim my voice. A voice that has felt, for too long, awkward and unimportant. I've shared parts of myself and written more. I'm so grateful to have my writing, my insight, my ability to reflect.

I want to continue living my truth.
I have allowed others to diminish my feelings too many times. My awareness, my ability to feel so deeply that it burns...although they feel like burdens, they are beautiful gifts. I no longer hide my emotions to please others; rather, I live without shame and will continue to do so. Others may catch on, but if they don't or can't, it really can't be any of my concern. That's their truth.

Let's do more moving forward. The same good habits, but more.
Self-care for me has too often been a last resort, a place to turn when the ship has already sailed. Let's, instead, embody self-care. Every word, action, and effort should be made with self-care in mind, with self-love in mind. And not as a means to be selfish, but to care about myself so much that I, in turn, encourage others to do the same. With self-care we are also caring for others and our communities. We're making a commitment to ourselves to just care. To grow.

I'm happy about where I am and where I'm going.
Habits can be good. They're agreements to stand up for ourselves. To put ourselves first.

'Til next time,

Wednesday, July 27, 2016

Dear young black girl,

Dear young black girl,
Go ahead, buy the black doll.
She may not be Barbie with the good hair,
But among the tufts of honey
And the creamy complexions of your peers,
She's the only one who looks like you.

Dear young black girl,
Know that the chemicals will burn
And the hot comb may leave a scar,
But with those straight locks you look like them.
No lye, no lye.

Know that growing up, we're all awkward
But you may still feel like Other.
When they speak of your history,
You'll crouch. You'll cringe. You'll wish it could be over.
They only show reels of shackled black bodies,
Of assassinated leaders.
They won't have a unit on Black Excellence.

Know that you are just as pretty as Sarah and Lauren
That your -iqua doesn't have the same ring,
But you can still wear the crown.


Dear young black woman,
Know your worth.
Know your place.
A place above the ceiling,
Shattering glass.
Above the murmurs of unprofessionalism,
Let your curls kink and your kinks curl.

Know that the men who look like you
May not love you,
May spew filth as Black as your skin,
As their skin,
As their momma's skin,
But may not love you.

Know that you are a threat.
They judged you for your cranial size
But now pay for your lips, your hips.

Know that you are a threat.
To intelligence, to beauty, to history.
A history that has silenced the voice,
But welcomed the hands that kept the stables clean.

Young black woman,
We commend you.
You embody grace, strength, and yes,
You are more than
You are more than
You are.

Dear young black woman,
When we say #BlackLivesMatter,
We're talking to you, too.

Tuesday, January 5, 2016

These are not New Year's Resolutions. I repeat, these are NOT New Year's Resolutions.

As much as I would love to be edgy by saying that New Year's Resolutions are pointless and impractical, I think that a new year is the perfect time to make some changes in your life. Also, I basically consider this blog a public diary at this point, so why not just give the people what they want (more stuff about me)?

This post isn't about a long list of resolutions as much as it's about a confession - to myself, and to whoever is reading this. (If this were a YouTube video, I'd make a cut and play Usher's Confessions, Part II right now.) This post is about me surrendering and being vulnerable, because I'm tired. I'm tired of feeling how I've felt for so long, and I'm ready to take responsibility and leave myself accountable.

I'm a pretty insecure person, and I feel lonely and unhappy a lot of the time. I place so much of my own self-worth into relationships with other people that I've lost myself in the madness. At the end of the day, I feel unfulfilled by the many interactions I have with others, and crave a strong, genuine connection. I lean on my self-deprecating humor to make up for the fact that I'm actually feeling down, and I blame others for making me feel so lonely and left out. It's really not fair to anyone, including myself.

I don't trust myself or my journey. I don't trust my ability to live a life of love and joy by myself, so I turn to mindless online dating. I don't trust myself to be vulnerable with others, so I end up turning them away. I don't trust the fact that I have a promising future, so I choose to dwell on what I'm not instead of what I am.

So here I am, aware of the fact that I am this way. It's a start, right? This is where I start. This is where I start to trust and accept myself, where I am, and where I'm going. This is my surrender to end the self-sabotage and to leave room for love. Love for myself, mostly. Also love for and from others.

I tweeted this a couple of days ago (so Millenial~), but I truly think that we are all okay, and that if we don't feel okay, there are ways to get back. Counseling, writing, yoga, hugs, whatever. Whatever the tools are, we need to trust that we are already the person we aspire to be. Most of us have just fallen away from that person due to events, self-doubt, or other trying circumstances; even so, that person is always there. It's just a matter of finding them again.

So here's to 2016, and to being that person again.

'Til next time,