Brother, I’m Dying

I am reading this exceptionally well-written memoir by Edwidge Danticat and I have been moved to tears on several occasions. Any immigrant child who has been left behind in their home country, while their parent(s) went to another country “for a better life,” can identify with this book. Anyone who has loved an aunt or  an uncle like a parent can identify with book. Once, I was so enthralled by a particular chapter in the book, while on the train, and was on the verge of crying when I caught myself in that specific emotion and wondered if anyone noticed. If I were on the train and noticed someone’s reaction like I had to the book, I would want to know more…I might even stop the person and ask.

I remember picking this book up in the bookstore, just to read a couple of lines, when it first graced the shelves , but never bought it. I truly believe that books or  stories find you when you need them or are ready to receive them–I am going home, to Jamaica, in November, after being away for 16 years. God Willing.

Getting to the Root of It All

It has been raining for the past three days,nonstop, this week. It is amazing how the weather can play a role in the type of mood you have. Now, I am almost certain I cannot live for a long time in a place like Seattle. I have been thinking a lot…I guess I do that a lot, but this time I have been thinking about taking over my mom’s garden in the backyard. She hasn’t been tending to it for quite some time, and I miss the earth. I feel like I want to nurture something,but also get something in return. So, I bought a gardening book at the store yesterday. You know, one of those Farmers’ Almanac gardening books. I want to go to the Farmers’ Market this weekend and find out what plants I can buy. Although I grew up growing various plants and flowers, it has been some time since that happened and that was under the supervision of my aunt… a long time ago!

Right now,  I am not sure how big this new adventure will be, or how long it will last but it is definitly worth the try.

The Tie That Binds

Funny: Yesterday I posted a blog entry on the challenges of living with my parents again, and presto– there was an article in today’s Times about this same topic!

Sometimes

Sometimes when the day is going fine, and you are excited just to make it through one more day, you are met with adversity in one of the least expected places—home. I live with my parents, and although I am so grateful that I have a roof over my head, and a family that cares and loves me, I would be a liar, no, not human if I did not say that sometimes they drive me up the wall. I am often reminded (and rightly so) that this is not my own space: From my own courtesy calls to let them know that I will be late I get the question of when I will be in. Now, that can fall under the category of “Things Parents Do To Show You That They Love You,” however there have been not knocking my room door before entering, and eating my organic, super-expensive food without even asking at times. So, why don’t I just get my own space, you ask? I can’t afford it! And that makes me even more frustrated when things like this happen. I have tons of loans from grad school, and with my monthly expenses (including paying my parents some money to help with the bills), I am often left in mental anguish until my annoyance settles.

Vida La Vida!

For this post I feel obligated to write something. I have only blogged two times for this month. There are times when I miss it, and then there are other times when I don’t.  However, I do know the importance of having a voice…even if no one hears it…or reads it.

What an exciting and frightening time we live in! The recession is real, but so are the possibilities. Politics is so exciting to me. I didn’t appreciate it that much in college the way I do now, even though it was one of my majors. I wish I could sit down with my favorite professor from undergrad, Dr. Emmert, and find out what he thinks of all this.  (That reminds me, he owes me an email.) 

 I am also excited about the weekend and about spending time with my nephew and my friend who just had a baby. We ( my friend and I) are going to get  mani/pedis! I am looking forward to grocery shopping. The Trader Joes at Union Square is a mad house! So, I want to get up early tomorrow and shop before the craziness begins.

Here’s to life!

By the way,  how cool is Coldplays’ new cd, Vida la Vida?!

How do I love Me? Let Me Count the Ways…

My nephew and I went on a trip to Manhattan today. We saw a movie, ate popcorn, visited the Christmas market, the farmers market and Barnes & Nobles, all in Union Square. He, of course, was wide eyed at everything: the rows of Christmas trees, bags of apples for one dollar, the crowd…I was having a good time exploring the city with him and wondered to myself (especially when I took him to the bathroom ) how single parents do this thing,without partners in their lives, everyday. They make it happen, that’s what we humans do best–adapt.

At Barnes & Nobles I bought him one of those activity flashcards where you match, sound the letters and name the object, and as we were about to exit the store, I saw the new O magazine were Oprah is standing next to her skinnier self asking what happened. I knew I had to buy it and so I returned to the line and bought the magazine.

On the train going home I read the article. Oprah stated that she was “embarrassed,” that she didn’t think she would be talking about weight after all this time. All this resonated with me, although I cannot say that I am embarrassed, I must admit that some of my actions say that I am: holding my breath and waiting for people to ask me about my weight being just one of them. However, as I write this, I realize that a part of me did not believe that I was worthy of being healthy when I was 50lbs lighter and that’s the part I am trying to heal.

One day I will believe, truly believe, that all the good happening in my life is deserved and that if something doesn’t go the way I want it to go, it doesn’t mean that I am being punished. There are times that I get it and then there are days when I don’t. Often it takes just a single incident to make that confidence crumble– a disagreement, an unrequited love, a bad day at work…

To be firmly rooted in love is what I strive for, not from any one person or material thing, but just to know that I am enough. Sounds like a cliche, but no one ever said a cliche wasn’t truth. I want that even on the worse of days, I still love myself enough to know that it is still good to take care of me–to be consistantly conscious. This need to stroke the ego, right away, is damaging to me–immediate gratification ain’t working.

In the article, they were discussing this lack of love and what it means to people with addiction (food,drugs, alcohol, etc). Being good to oneself doesn’t only mean doing so in good times, it means loving yourself especially in the tough times.

So, yes, I had an injury (while I was running), but I ate horrible things after that to feed the emotional and perhaps even the physical pain… Facing the different parts of yourself is important–including the not so nice parts. Honestly, how can you fix something that has not been examined?

In continuing the examination and the healing, I seek to be this woman: my greater self, with a sense of urgency.

I claim to have no answers in this whole, getting up, brushing yourself off and moving on thing we call life, all I know is that patience and love are essential.

Boys Don’t Cry

My nephew has a friend who he really adores. This past weekend she stayed over with us. It was a joy. Her mother needed a break after she (the daughter) decided to call 911 because she “needed a friend.” My sister thought that I could use my social work skills to talk to her. The little girl is going through a lot– her mother has cancer and she is scared. This time away was good for both of them.

So, my nephew was so happy to have her around that every now and again he would put his arms around her to give her a hug ( this happens every time she visits). Here is a conversation that occurred one of the times he placed his arm around her:

K: “S, why do you keep hugging me, S?”

S: ” Because I love you, K. I love you”

It was that simple: he loved her and he wanted to show it. I looked at the two of them and thought to myself that I hope that he continues to communicate his feelings openly and freely. That even when society tells him that he should hide who he is, or how he is suppose to feel, that he will express it without feeling afraid to. I hope he knows that boys do cry and that it is okay to cry.

I read an article on The Root about the black male bravado and “the pain that is beneath the swagger.” So, let me say this before I continue: Yes, I am a woman and I may not understand everything about being a man but I believe that we often do not give men the room to be human based on societal expectations. Being an aunt of 3 year-old boy, I hope that we can create a space for dialog for this issue and then change it.

Inviting Joy

I remember last year I was at that time basking in love and it showed on my face. I saw a friend of mine and she said, “You look happy” and without even thinking about what she said, I responded, “And I am scared!” Wow.

I woke up this morning feeling rejuvenated and refreshed. My parents’ house is full of clutter at the moment, due in some part to the unexpected standstill of my sister’s car on the streets of Brooklyn. She, my mom and my nephew were coming from the supermarket when the car stalled. Did I mention that it was raining, heavily? Before the call, my dad laid all his papers on the living room floor, searching for something amongst the pile. When he received the call from my sister, the papers were left there. Needless to say, the house was in chaos when my family arrived with bags and bags of groceries, papers on the ground and my family drenched from head to toe.

So, why am I “putting ma business out in the street,” as they say in the ‘hood? Ah, because with all that happening, the house being a mess, me being broke and all the other things not going the way I would like at the moment, I see the promise land. Waking up this morning, I felt great. I felt as if I was in love, I felt and still feel like I am loved. The more I acknowledged this feeling, the more I felt that fear creeping up inside me– that, “this feels too good, something bad might happen” sort of feeling. However, today, I am claiming this feeling, chile! I am ready to invite all the positive things that are coming my way.

The Buck Stops Here: Ending the Cycle of Victimization and Single Black Motherhood

I begin this blog entry knowing that stuff happens, however, I have been challenged with my choice of not having a child at the moment. Realistically, it is not a choice (I just haven’t found the right guy,yet) but in a lot of ways it is. As a black woman who has had an absentee biological father, I have made the decision to wait until I find someone who is committed to raise a family in a very different way than I was raised most of my life. This choice has left me with blank stares from mothers in the park when they find that I do not have children of my own and that the child I am with is actually my nephew.  Little jokes would arise here and there by family members about me living alone for the rest of my life. “At least you would have child who would be there for you,” they would say.

The state of the black family is unfortunately in peril and although I am open to dating other men of color, my child will be at least be half black and I will be a black mother, inshAllah (God Willing). I remember when I was around the age of 13 or 14 making a promise to myself that I would wait until I worked all my stuff out ( dealing with the daddy factor, having a mom who was burdened carrying a lot of the load and just seeing a lot of people around me full of resentment–dreams deferred) before I had children— because of what my mom went through. Now, at the age of 30 I am realizing that I am probably in the minority of not having a child, and for a while I was feeling down on that fact. However, after watching and reading recent coverages of the state of the black family and reevaluating my life, I am committed more than ever to find the man who is self assured in himself to know that he is worthy of giving and receiving love and being a part of a healthy family makeup. The men in my past were broken souls and honestly so was I (laws of attraction) but during that time I knew that being lackadaisical in protecting myself would be a detriment.

I am tired of the victimization of black women, the continuous story where the men left them to be single mothers. Again stuff happens, but I believe we have more power than we deem ourselves to have. I believe that we need to be more accountable to ourselves: seek upstanding men (and they are out there) to be our life partners. I am talking of course about straight relationships. So for me, the buck or the cycle stops here. We black women should reclaim our rightful place and own the fact that we deserve good men by our sides and yeah, it’s hard— ain’t nothing like a man, but honestly, ain’t nothing like a strong (black) family, either.

The Tie That Binds

I am in New York. I am home, and there are a lot things that I am thankful for, but tonight I am most thankful for my sister. Today, (or by the date that this post will show, yesterday) she took me out for my birthday. We went and watched the Sex and the City movie (she fell asleep a couple of times,but I digress) and then she wanted to take me to a restaurant, all for my birthday. Knowing that she might be late for work if we dined in, I told her that if she allowed me to peruse Strand, she wouldn’t have to buy me dinner. I was under the assumption that I would pay for any books that I placed in my hands, however she told me at the register that she would buy my books for me as a birthday present. So, my copies of Anna Karenina, My Name is Red and The Great Gatsby were accompanied by her copy of The Vixen Diaries by Karinne Steffens.

We ran through the rain, twice and made it home. My sister had to run back out (into the pouring rain) to her job, and only had time to change. I told her that this was a time when I wished I knew how to drive ( need to check my to do list) so that she wouldn’t have to go in the rain again . I asked her to let me know when she made it to her job. She sent me a text later saying that she made it, and that she had a great time hanging out with me,”xoxo”–now, how cute is that?!