Monday Notes: My Bisexual Daughter

My daughter has a lot of positive qualities.

She is intelligent. I first realized just how smart she was when she was three-years-old. I begged the teacher to put her in the next class, but she disagreed, that is, until she interacted with her for two days.

“You were right,” she apologized, “I just thought you were like all the other parents who think their child is brilliant.”

The next day she was in the four-year-old class.

Her intelligence was reaffirmed years later at the end of third grade. I’d received her first state standardized test results. She’d gotten all the answers correct. Even with my background in education, I’d never seen marks like that.

She is caring. I remember when she cried because she was saving a lizard that had somehow entered the house, a frequent Florida occurrence. His little green tail fell off as she used a glass to capture him. She immediately burst into tears, but soon calmed down when I reminded her that lizards’ tails regenerate. She dried her face and released him outside where he belonged.

She is socially conscious. She loves being black and championing for black people in different ways, like when she assured her dark-skinned friend it was okay to stay in the sun; she had no fear of “getting darker,” and neither should he.

She can also be found telling her father and me about her new choice of water, why we shouldn’t be buying McDonald’s, why we should stop eating ‘carcinogens’ (e.g., meat), and why we should sign a petition about parolees.

She is kind. When she found out her big sister wouldn’t be able to attend our last trip, she offered to save more of her own check so that her sister could go. Of course her sister declined the offer, but my point is she offered. She also considers her friends and frequently stands up for them in different situations or is there for them when they need someone to listen.

She is trustworthy. This is why we had no problem passing my car to her at the age of seventeen. She drives to school and back home. She drives to work and back home. She drives to her friends’ houses for parties. She drives back to school for extracurricular activities. She drives to complete her service project once a week during the summer. She spends the night over friends’ houses, and when she doesn’t feel comfortable where she is, she texts me…and comes home. We trust her and her judgment.

These are the qualities that come to mind when someone asks me about my daughter. The last thing I consider is her sexual identity. I just wished society felt the same.

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siSTARS with Kelley (Part III)

In this final video, Kelley, of Black-Burgundy blog describes what she admires about our blogs. We also have an in-depth conversation about the intersection of different generations (e.g., Silent, Baby Boomers, Generation X, Generation Y/Millennial, and Generation Z). Let us know what you think? Are the generations at odds? Do we respect one another?

On My 46th Birthday

I am acutely aware of the fact that I could not have been born. My origin story is not sprinkled with baby showers and welcome home rituals wrapped in pink receiving blankets. It does not elude me that I was born from irrepressible lust to a mother who contemplated the newly legislated Roe v Wade* decision.

Should I? Should I not? I’ve imagined her mulling repeatedly, until finally it was too late, and I was born at 9:42 A.M. on May 23^rd.

With this awareness comes an understanding that existing is a gift. And because this is true for me, I live knowing that life is for the living. So, I live differently.

I do as I please in most situations. I do not ask others for permission to take time for myself, to pursue education, or to make money as I see fit for me. This is not a feminist statement. It’s my life’s practice. I’m responsible for the direction of my life and I trust my intuition to guide me where I should go, be, and do in each moment.

Inherently, I’ve always sensed that social norms are made-up rules to control populations of people. Learning about the theory of social construction solidified this thought. This philosophy has not only framed how I view life, but also how I live it. I have abandoned many of these faux guidelines and replaced them with rituals that make sense for me. This ranges from how I practice so-called holidays to how I interact with family and friends.

I was not born to be treated like a 21st century paid slave. Therefore, I’ve found ways to perform work duties that suit me yet still benefit the institution. I show up and give 100% in each situation, regardless of how I feel about co-workers and students. My value for what I do and why I do it stems from a personal work ethic, not something external. While it has taken time, I know the difference between a job’s requirements and someone else’s desires. I do not bend to the latter.

I suspect I’m here for a reason: to live a human life. For me, this means dreaming and manifesting dreams that, in my limited knowledge, only human beings can do. There is nothing I can think of that I cannot do. Don’t confuse this statement with I can do anything. I cannot, for example, become the best WNBA player, mainly because I haven’t considered it. But I do believe firmly that whatever I conceive with my thoughts and imagination can be achieved by me.

So, I write and maintain this blog as a way to globally inspire and connect with others. I write books to purposefully spark conversation and shift hearts and perspectives. I converse with my siSTARS, record and share videos with the public to add as much authenticity to this human experience as I can. I take photos intended to move you and others. And I own and operate a successful editing service business to help writers and scholars attain their goals in an affordable way. There is nothing that I cannot do.

Life is a gift. What better way is there to show appreciation than to wake up each morning and live it in ways you value?

On my 46^th birthday, I’m grateful. I’m grateful for life. I’m grateful for purpose. And I’m grateful for each of you who intentionally participate in it with me in some way.

 

*Please note. This is not a pro-life message; this is a pro-LIVE your life message 😉

Monday Notes: Facebook Break (2019)

Every now and then, Facebook (in particular) gets on my nerves. Or maybe it’s the people on Facebook. Either way, sometimes, I tire of how people post, what they choose to share, and the overall monotony of it all.

So, I take a break and deactivate.

These breaks usually last 30 days. This time, though, I noticed two things in my absence and I almost said adieu to the social media site for good.

Facebook has made seasonal friends into lifetime ones. Have you all heard this phrase before: People are in your life for a reason, season, or lifetime? Well, I for one think it’s true. But what I’ve noticed is that Facebook makes every relationship a lifetime one, and that’s just unnatural. There are some people with whom you were only supposed to be in contact for those three years that you had that job. He or she was your co-worker. They were never supposed to know how your vacation went, or the college your child is attending, or that you love your cat so much that you have hundreds of photos of him. He was just Mike, from that job you had in 1998. And when you quit, you were probably supposed to leave him in 1998, not allow him access to the remainder of your life.

This goes for family members too. I remember when we first started our Facebook activity. Dwight was very discerning about who he would add, even if it was family. It used to baffle me. Why won’t you add my cousin??? It’s my cousin! Now, I understand. My cousin is crazy in person and she might also be crazy on social media. Family can be in your life for a reason, season, or lifetime too, so yeah. There’s no reason to befriend them on the interwebs when you might be avoiding them in regular situations, like Thanksgiving dinner.

People think they know how you’re doing. Folks sincerely believe they know how you’re doing if they see you living your best social media life. One year, my aunt rattled off facts about me in an effort to prove just how much she knew about me. My cousin recounted how much my father “knew about and loved my daughters,” even though he’d never spoken to them on the telephone and visited twice. Facebook has become a replacement for other types of interaction. But let me tell you what happens when you’re inaccessible to people in that way. (Some) people revert to checking up on you the “old-fashioned” way. They call. They text. They ask how and what you’re doing. In fact, one friend said she’d gone on FB to find out what I was up to, but I wasn’t there, so she texted. While I appreciated her and others’ concern, it’s clear that it’s a lot easier to see how someone’s doing by just waiting for them to pop up in your feed, than it is to reach out and ask about their well-being. However, I’ve argued before that it’s not a genuine way to gauge someone’s wellness. It’s just a highlight reel, and not always an authentic one, just the positive, sunshiny version, chosen for its best angle and lighting.

Anywho, by the time you read this, I will have reactivated my account and returned to interacting with hundreds of “lifetime friends” and their filtered moments. But I have a feeling the end is nearing for this social media giant and me.

Monday Notes: 3 Lessons from a BFF Breakup

I usually can’t write about something, unless I’m completely over it. That’s why I have about 6,000 notes related to breaking up with my bff and no posts about it. Ever since June, I’d try to begin my thoughts. Each time, I produced nothing.

But this time, I’m doing it.

We were friends for a decade and a half. Fifteen years is a long time. We’d friended our way through childbirth, divorce and international relocations. If you’ve been friends with someone for this long, then you know the laughs, tears, secrets, and experiences that can accumulate. There are too many to count.

That’s why breaking up was difficult. I felt its dissipation at least three years ago, but I thought it would pass. I figured if I gently expressed my new journey to her then, she would understand and join me. That’s not reality. Everyone cannot walk beside you on your path. Everyone is not supposed to.

And you know what? I’ve learned that it’s okay if they don’t. Equally important, I’ve become a little more conscious about who I am in friendships and what I want in those relationships:

I want to be the person’s friend, not her therapist. Friends listen to one another during their times of need. I get it. However, if all our phone calls include me listening to you and your problems, then that’s not a friendship. That’s a therapy session. Asking me to be your part-time counselor is not fair to me or you. Also, I’ve discovered that my tolerance level is low when it comes to this. Some people find this cold and unfeeling, but it’s quite the opposite. I empathize deeply. I take whatever you’ve revealed to me and literally feel your emotion. When it’s traumatic, it weighs heavy. Until I learn to let go of others’ issues, I need my friends to seek therapy, instead.

I want my friends to grow. Is this fair to say? You all know I’m always seeking growth, physically, spiritually, academically, whatever. If you’ve known me for any length of time, then I’m probably not the same person you first met. I hope this doesn’t sound like I’m saying I want a friend who is a mirror image of me. I don’t. But if we’re friends, then I want to know that you care about your own well-being and that maybe, you and I will help one another get there. Here’s the tricky part. Growth begins with self-reflection. And self-reflection requires looking in the mirror and being honest with oneself. I’ve learned the hard way that I can’t make someone self-reflect.

I want my friends to be non-judgmental. For real. I’ve been singing the non-judgment song for about four years. Now, I’m not perfect. Sometimes I still screenshot the occasional text to a mutual friend and wonder “what in the world is wrong with her?” But not always good people. Other people’s business is not often the topic of my own conversations. That’s because I’m too busy doing #2 ^^^ self-reflecting and growing. If the purpose of you reaching out to me is to discuss when someone else is going to get her life together, then you and I probably don’t need to connect that often.

Over the years, I’ve gained and lost quite a few girlfriends. The main reason is because I’d never thought twice about who the person was when we met. It was more like, you like eating out and partying? Me too. Let’s get together and do that, and then we became friends. The end of those friendships forced me to process how or why we became close. I’ve determined the answer is usually rooted in the energy surrounding me at the time. But I’ll save that discussion for another day.

For now, I’m wondering, have you ever broken up with a friend? Did it bother you? Have you thought about what you want in a friendship? Do you have long-lasting friendships? If so, how’d that happen?

 

 

12 Ways to Maintain the Christmas Spirit AFTER Christmas (2)

Here is another reflection on how I maintained the Christmas spirit after Christmas.

The second thing I did was send people gifts (February). I began with my little sister friend’s birthday. I ordered Wandas from Two Dough Girls and had them delivered to her home. I also sent my little cousin a care package. She was completing her first year at my alma mater, Western Michigan University. I asked her what she wanted/needed and she sent me a list. Dwight and I added her requests to our groceries and shipped them off. If you’ve ever been away from home, then you understand how exciting it is to receive free snacks and toiletries. Her older sister didn’t need anything, so I sent her a handwritten card with well-wishes and a copy of my book.

This seems to be a simple way to show people that you’re thinking of them. Let me know if you try it.

 

Monday Notes: Ask Nothing; Just Be

We should ask nothing of others that we don’t ask of ourselves” – kelley from Black Burgundy.

I read this quote on kelley’s blog a month or so ago. It resonated so deeply with me that I typed it into my notes and vowed to write about it one day.

We should ask nothing of others that we don’t ask of ourselves. But we do it often. My father did this when he discovered he had Stage 4 throat cancer. He wanted me to demonstrate a self-less, compassionate, and giving love towards him, when many times he had not shown the same towards others, especially me. How could he expect me to do something that he had never done, and because he was dying, would never do? It baffled me for the first two years, until I made a choice and decided who he chose to be didn’t matter. All that mattered is who I chose to be because I had to sit with my own character.

We should ask nothing of others that we don’t ask of ourselves reminds me of a Jill Scott interlude. It’s called Willing. In it, Scott describes a relationship that all too many women may be used to. It’s a relationship where the man wants his mate to exhibit certain characteristics: “flawless,” “patient,” “willing,” “honest,” and “loyal,” just to name a few. Have you seen this type of romantic relationship? One person expects these qualities, but doesn’t offer it themselves. In fact, consciously or unconsciously, they may be the opposite: flawed, impatient, stubborn, dishonest, and disloyal, yet they desire something else.

We should ask nothing of others that we don’t ask of ourselves seems like commonsensical advice for all relationships, but I suppose it’s not. I have a great aunt, who is 96 years old. All of my life she’s never called me. In fact, she relies on her sister, my Grannie, to call, keep up with, and pass on information about my life’s happenings and me. However, in her later years, she’s become a widow, lost her eyesight to macular degeneration, and lost her mobility to old age. As she sits in her tiny apartment, this way of keeping up with me has stopped working for her. Her solution?

“Call me once a month,” she says.

Notice, she didn’t say, “I’ll call you once a month.” Instead, she wants me to do something that even she doesn’t plan to begin doing.

People are funny. And because of that, relationships and how we relate to one another and tend to one another’s needs (or not) are also laughable.

I’d advise that we stop this behavior and begin anew. Give to others what you desire. If you want love, then give love. If you want compassion, then be compassionate. If you want honesty, then tell the truth as much as possible. In this way, you’ll always have what you want because it will begin with you. And if you don’t have it to give, then it might be time to dig deep to figure out why.

Let me know what you think, and if you want to check out the Jill Scott interlude, here it is. It’s a little over a minute.

Monday Notes: How Are You?

When someone asks you how you’re doing, what do you say? Do you give the traditional “I’m fine”? If so, why is that?

A friend once posted to social media that no one really wants to know how you’re doing when they ask. So, just say, “I’m good” and keep it moving.

I agree. But I’m done interacting in that way. Here’s why. I’ve spent a large part of my life pretending that everything was okay when it wasn’t. I’ve also learned the hard way that repressing emotions and going about life in a “business as usual” fashion is no healthier than eating junk food everyday. Ill feelings stay with you until you release them.

Now, if you ask me how I’m doing or how something is going, you will get the truth.

If I really am good, then I’ll let you know. But if I’m not? I still let you know.

For example, When people ask, how are the girls, which is a common question, I pause because they’re no longer one unit called, “the girls.” Quite honestly, they never were. But being in their late teenage years makes it more evident.

So, I pause. I provide detail. Kesi is doing this, that, and a third. Desi is doing X, Y, and Z. Sometimes it’s unicorns and rainbows. Other times, I wish either of them were making different choices and headed down a path of clarity.

Either way, if you ask, then you’ll get a real answer.

I’ve learned to answer people truthfully about every aspect of my life because there are enough of us covering up sadness and anger with fake smiles and high-pitched laughs. I don’t want to be another one.

For me, reality is what’s up.

But what I’ve found is that people can’t quite take the real answer. Uncomfortable squirms and bug eyes show me that they, like my friend, would rather hear the traditional “fine.”

Quickly changing the subject when I explain how either of my daughters is really doing signals they’d like to discuss something more chipper, like the weather. But only if the sun has shone brightly for several days in a row. If not, then a conversation about when it might return is in order, because like real discussions about our lives, people also don’t like crappy weather.

So, tell me. How are you…really? And how do you typically answer this question?

Standing for Something

On Tuesday, September 4, 2018, when everyone else engaged in a social media conversation about Nike, Colin Kaepernick, and the burning of shoes, my husband and I were in Gainesville having a late lunch with our daughter, Kesi and her friend.

Afterwards, we also took her shopping. That’s when a conversation with her friend ensued.

“Do you want to go to Walmart?” friend asked.

Kesi laughed because she already knew the answer.

“I don’t wanna go to Walmart.”

“Well, then you must not wanna save money,” friend replied in a persnickety kind of way.

“It’s bigger than saving money,” I said.

“She won’t go to Chick-fil-A either,” Kesi added.

Friend was completely confused by this point. “What?” “Chick-fil-A has the best chick,” she said. “First, tell me why you won’t go to Walmart.”

I told her it was too long of an explanation because it really is. Twelve years ago, I read a book called The Wal-Mart Effect, watched two documentaries, and held a lengthy conversation with a respected friend, who called the company fascist. I can count on one hand how many times I’ve been inside a Walmart since then, and it’s mostly to accompany others.

Still, I began with my reason. Walmart mistreats their employees by not hiring them as full-time workers, so they don’t have to pay insurance. For example, they might ask an employee to work 35 hours, just shy of a 40-hour work week. Dwight added that they use prison labor to make their products. Kesi chimed in and explained that the reason most stores operate the way they do now (e.g., importing cheap China goods) began with Walmart at the helm.

“Well, maybe when I get older I’ll shop somewhere else, but for now…”

I told her I understood. Many people who are older than her still can’t afford to shop somewhere else because they don’t make enough money, they’re retired, or on a fixed income. It’s just something I do because I can.

That answer was sufficient. Now she had to know why I avoided Chick-fil-A.

“You know those people who believe you can pray the gay away?” I asked.

“Mmmhmmm,” friend, who self-identifies as a lesbian answered.

“I stopped going because the owner uses part of the business’s funds to support those type of organizations. And I don’t think that’s right.”

I was driving so I couldn’t look back, but friend, who up til now had an answer for everything was silent for a second. And then, “Whaaaat? Oh, I’m definitely not going there anymore.”

Then, a few seconds later, “But that food is really good, though.”

We all laughed. But that’s it right? It’s hard to boycott something you like. And those of us who want to be moral people are faced with these decisions more and more because companies are sharing their personal values. Sometimes those ethics aren’t aligned with who we think we are. Or in the case of friend and Chick-fil-A, they are completely counter to your lifestyle.

What do you do? Do you fall back into willful ignorance, knowing the truth, while pretending you’re not part of the problem? Or, do you take your salary elsewhere, hoping that company doesn’t support something you’re against?

In the early 2000s, giving up $.97 items and waffle fries was an easy choice. I haven’t missed either. But what happens when you like the company but they inadvertently become a spokesperson for something you’re against? A couple days after the Kaepernick situation, another shoe story from 2016 re-surfaced. Two years ago, New Balance opposed the Trans-Pacific Partnership, a trade agreement Trump also opposed. Consequently, neo-Nazis and other white supremacists deemed New Balance their official shoe. Yikes! New Balance quickly made a statement that reaffirmed their stance against “bigotry” and “hate,” but I certainly don’t want to be associated with the official Klan shoe! I love my New Balance and it took a while for me to find an affordable, cute workout sneaker with arch support. Furthermore, their shoes are made in the States, a rarity nowadays. For the first time, my decision is cloudy. But I’m leaning towards willful ignorance on this one.

So, tell me. Have you ever boycotted a business? If so, why? If not, why? In the long run, do you think it matters?

Monday Notes: Nail Salon Thoughts 💅🏾

I’m sitting in a nail salon.

Every time I go I feel guilty. Sitting here while Vietnamese women rub my feet and pamper my body seems wrong. Couldn’t I do this myself? I used to. I used to cut my own toe nails and paint them too, with vibrant reds, oranges, and purples. But now? I act as if I don’t know how to reach my toes. They do it better. I’m convinced.

As I sit, I listen.

I want it round, not square. She has to help her because only she knows reflexology. I don’t like this color; can I choose something more nude? This last one comes from a six-foot woman, with a thick accent whose feet were already submerged to her lower calf in the tub of bubbly water. She expected the nail technician to stop working, walk to the front of the salon, and get a new polish for her.

This image doesn’t belong to me.

Every so often, I ignore my book’s pages. The overweight woman in front of me eats her Taco Bell bowl and slurps her over-sized drink  as someone scrapes the bottom of her heels. The middle-aged woman two seats down mmmhmmms and ahas her way through a conversation. She must be going on vacation because she speaks of taking her suitcases down from wherever they’ve been hibernating, while someone massages the tops of her feet with hot stones, turning them cherry red. Another woman lies flat on the black massage chair. An employee shuffles over to slather thick, yellow wax on her eyebrows, eventually ripping it and her tiny hairs off one strip at a time.

I just messed up a toe, another woman whines as she walks towards the front of the salon, with her black terrier leashed beside her. All of the patrons exchange glances. No one knew a dog was there until that moment. Her nail tech says something in what I assume to be Viet-Muong and briskly moves ahead without her.

I wonder why we do it.

Why do we get caught up in consumerism that somehow turns to a perceived necessary part of life…mine and yours? Today it’s pedicures and eyebrows. Tomorrow it’s something else society will have convinced us we need, something women need. It’ll always be something because we women are always in need of improvement. Right?