4 Lessons from 2016

If I had to sum up this year for me in one word, it would be TRANSITION. 2016 was full of changes for me wrapped in lessons, successes and blessings. To start off with, I ended and 8 year relationship (not  BARACK OBAMA  though I am devastated) with someone who I was engaged to, lived with and had a child with.  This was difficult because my decision wasn’t based on something catastrophic, dramatic or scandalous. I didn’t catch him cheating, he didn’t hit me. I just realized that some of our beliefs were so inherently different it affected how we dealt with each other, parenting, goals and overall views on life.  At first I thought, what would everyone think…his family, my family, and the naysayers? But then I had to listen to my inner voice which loudly and repeatedly told me that  he was brought into my life for a reason and a season, but not meant to be my mate for a life time. Imagine trying to articulate that? This was at the beginning of the year, and still we are transitioning from cohabitating fiancés to co-parenting friends.

   The transition to living on my own after 6 years has actually been amazing. It’s given me the opportunity to really self-reflect and think , to take care of myself; to plan.  

 A few months ago, my oldest son told me I was going to be a grandmother in April 2017. This was like the official stamp on the end of an era. No ovaries, in menopause, I’m a grandmother before 40. This transition will be all about letting go and trusting that no matter what my baby will be more than okay, he’ll be great.  

 I also resigned from a leadership team at my day job and began a leadership program outside of my realm. Trying something new was easy; giving up something old was a difficult decision, but so worth it in the end. I was tired of fighting an unnecessary battle, one in which I was asked to go against the warrior and change agent I am.   

But instead of telling you ALLLLLL my business,  I’d like to summarize a few take aways from my last 361 days and hopefully they will speak to your spirit:

    1. Do not allow others to stifle who you are at the core. This includes friends, family, lovers, and employers. If you are asked to do something that is without a doubt contradictory to who you are a person, something that makes you feel guilty, strained, or at war with yourself- don’t do it. Life is too short to live with that type of inner turmoil. Be unabashedly, uniquely you.

    2.  F%CK WHAT OTHER PEOPLE THINK. PERIOD.  Don’t let other people’s fearful, judgmental ideologies dictate what you do.  Tell them to take their SHOULDS and shove ‘em.

    3.  Let go of the people and the things that don’t bring you joy. You can’t choose your family, but you can choose to love them from a distance. When you let go of the things that don’t make you happy, guess what happens…you get happy!

     4. STRETCH. Your thinking, your activities, your mind. Even if it’s a little bit at a time. Change is inevitable but  it is so much more enjoyable when you control it.

These steps are why, even though the devastation of losing Prince ( and OBAMA)  I was able to have an adventurous, happy and amazing transitional year.  What’s next for 2017? Stay tuned! 

At All Costs

My heart breaks every time I hear about a young person committing suicide because they are being bullied. There are so many stances people take on this, from blaming parents, to even saying that children don’t have thick skin anymore, teasing is a part of childhood. This coming from people who didn’t grow up in the world of social media, where remarks and comments aren’t just forever embedded in our memory, but on laptops and cell phones for the whole world to see with just a click; where unauthorized videos become weapons of blackmail, shame and coercion. So was the case with Tovonna Holton, a 15-year-old Florida teen who was filmed secretly in the shower by her  “peers” who then shared it to Snapchat, a popular social platform among teenagers. Now there is much speculation about whether or not Tovonna, who shot herself in the head actually killed herself because of the incident or because she had deeper issues. In the end, it doesn’t matter at all. She is no longer here but those images of her naked body still linger on the web, or in screenshots.  It’s, for this reason, I offer this advice to parents:   Be all up in your child’s business at all costs!

They won’t like it, as a matter of fact, they’ll be pissed off, but it is your right and it is your duty. If your child has an account on any social media platform, then you need one too! I allowed my son at 14 to have a Facebook account on the condition that he friended me.  Then I friended some of his friends. So easily they accepted my requests, and many those that didn't accept my request had accounts which weren’t private so I could snoop as needed. I remember one day, I had to intervene when I saw that one of my son’s white friends referred to him as “nigga” casually.  I checked him quickly with a comment ordering he removes it immediately and then later had a follow discussion about it. 

  If he ever used my computer and didn’t sign out, I would go Facebook through his messages.  When I saw he hadn't posted a while, I check his friend's pages to see if he created a new page, he had.  When Instagram came about, I followed him and his friends.  I needed to be sure he wasn’t posting pictures with someone’s gun, or puffing weed.  I didn’t want him caught up in the glamour of what he saw on videos, or to follow what he saw others doing. Until he turned 18, he also knew that he was would be subject to a “phone check” at any time. I refused to let my son catch a charge for sexting, so even though we had a discussion about, I still checked for it. Now that he approaches 19, I’m not one bit sorry.  I could have potentially prevented my son from incriminating himself. 

We’d all like to think that we raised our kids right, but the reality is it’s easy for young people to get caught up in the crowd, to join in on what they think is just mere teasing. How easy it is for a careless judgment call on their behalf to have life altering consequences.  That is why I am vehemently for protecting our teens from themselves and others. A couple of years ago one father went into his daughter’s messages to find an older man who started out as friends but quickly began soliciting her for sex. The father set this man up to meet his “daughter”only to show up in a place instead. Thanks to his risky move, that man was arrested.  I, too would go as far as create a fake account to monitor or prove to them how quickly things can escalate.  If we are not hyper vigilant, it can cost us our child’s freedom, safety or even worse their lives. 

I could care less about  children's right advocates or whomever else thinks my child has a right to privacy. I will protect my child as long as they are a child, and I suggest you do the same. It is our responsibility to go so far as to check each other's children , family and friends, after all it takes a village. 

Dance with My Mother

I’d be dishonest with the world and myself if I didn’t admit that occasionally I feel a sense of envy and hurt when I see the relationship some of my closest friends have with their mothers. They party together, gamble to together, or live across the street from each other. I can’t help but think that if my mother was alive, she’d dance with me at family parties; I’ve been told all my life that she could cut a mean rug!

Sometimes I wish that I could crawl up in the bed with her like I did when I was three and be vulnerable with her. I’m come along accepting this loss, using my poetry to deal with my emotions, honoring her with my pen name and a tattoo, and having a zest for life so I can live for both of us. Anyone who knows me, knows that I believe in spirit and that much like water, we humans only change form, but our spirits, our energy never really dies. I know her spirit is present, and I get little signs every now and then, but sometimes I just want that physical presence, arms to hold, neck to smell in an embrace. I even get the bigger picture, I wouldn’t be who I am if I hadn’t suffered the loss.  I wouldn’t have ever picked up a pen to process my feelings and written words that I can truly say have inspired others to write, reflect, or do better. I wouldn’t be the type of teacher or mentor who is on call 24/7 for babies. I wouldn’t have this relentless desire to inspire women and teens to take power over their futures instead of being consumed by the past. I know her time was limited, and her purpose was fulfilled in those 23 years (according to two different mediums and my own intuition), but sometimes it doesn’t make it any easier, and sometimes I become overwhelmed with emotions and tears fill up my eyes and I let out a broken cry. This is the reality. I never want to sound ungrateful, I’ve been more than blessed with an enormous family, surrounded by love and mother like figures, something I’m sure other people wish they had.  The older I get the more I come to understand the bigger picture, which is why 90% of the time, I can tell my story to a crowd without even a lump in my throat, but other times, l find myself wondering what would certain moments be like if she was physically there instead of just mentally. 

My mother, looking exhausted after giving me a bath

The Mixed Feelings of Motherhood

            There’s something so bittersweet about the anticipation of my first born’s graduation from high school. I've been reflecting so much lately. I remember thinking,  "I just have to get him out of high school and I’m good”. But looking at him on the verge of 18, I start to think:  it’s not enough, but it will have to be enough.  In a couple of month’s, he will be a legal adult, able to make his own decisions. And while I can offer my opinion and give my unsolicited advice, in the end, it’s his choice, his life. That is hard for me because he’s been my baby for so long.

            Since the day I found out I was pregnant with him,  most of my life’s big decisions have been centered on what would be best for him. I changed my major, trading the unstable writing world for a more secure career in social services; I bought a house an adjacent town from where I grew up, so my son could be away from gangs and street violence; I pursued my dreams, not just for me, but so that he could see it could be done.  I worked two jobs so he would not want for anything; I took him with me when I worked with those were less fortunate so he could appreciate what he had. Most people look at him and think I've done a pretty decent job, me and my village of course. But lately, I've felt a sense of resentment towards his father resurfacing that I had long vanished.

            While trying to get my master’s degree and working 2 jobs, and struggling with my new home ownership responsibilities, I became frustrated that he had not been leading by example, or spending quality time, or providing financially since we broke up when my son was three. It took until my son was 11 to begin to let it go, forgive. But still, every now and then when I gave my son my last 10 bucks for lunch money, or if I saw his father in a brand new coat, or heard about him having another child, I became incensed. My son was his first child, and he was 21 with a high school diploma and an able mind and body when my baby was born, but he chose street life over being a present parent.  So I’d get upset, then I’d get over it because that’s what mothers do. As my son became more dependent and older, I had to deal with his fatherless, so the resentment became dormant. Besides, I had my father, who was doing more than his share to help raise him.

  Now that this momentous event is upon us, I feel that resentment brewing again. Why? Because now I have another son, a toddler, and because his father is present, I get to be the soft, nurturing mommy. Daddy can be the stern baritone voice, and mommy can be… mommy.  I was once that way with my older son, but then when the realities of the world set in, when I saw my boy growing into a Black man, an endangered species in America, fear crept in. I had to be tough, I had to be on his back. I had to teach him about sex, how to behave if pulled over by the police, model work ethic, school him about the streets; I had to be the crazy mom to show up if he wasn't where he was supposed to be. I feel like I was robbed of being the pushover mom... the sweet mom I wanted to be because his father didn't step up. 

Now he will be there on graduation day, and at the party, and I honestly have mixed feelings about it. On one hand, that is his father, and I've never discouraged their relationship, despite my feelings.  On the other hand, he will get to celebrate something he had NO PART in making happen. And that has me feeling… “Some type of way.”  But I guess I’ll get over, because that’s just what mothers do.

Looking for Daddy

Psychologists have theories about how when we become adults we look for in our mates what we got and what we missed from our opposite-sex parent. I can totally buy into this. Immediately, I think about all of the great qualities I see in my dad. He's there when it counts, when I feel like I need to be rescued, financially or emotionally. He's proud of me, and that's a great feeling, having someone be proud and confident when it comes to your aspirations. My dad celebrates all of the milestones in my life, college graduations, the birth of my children, buying a house, getting my teaching license. What's more important is that I can feel his love in the tears he cries on those special days.

         My dad is so much more laid back than I am because I am high strung (passionate is the positive twist I put on it). He’s able to look at what really matters and pick and choose his battles. This is something I'm learning more and more how to do every day, though I admit it's often a struggle. And my competitive nature definitely stems from him because he never discouraged the tomboy in me; in fact, I think he liked the fact that his daughter was tough enough to wrestle down boys. I don’t think I can ever remember a time when he told me to act like a lady. So glad about that!

        But it wasn't until I did some real deep processing that I realized there were things I missed from him as a kid. My father was just 19 when I was born. After my mother died, he pulled a no-show on several occasions, leaving me and my sister sitting on the front steps of my grandmother's house waiting.

        Then there were the trips to Friendly's Restaurant ( still one of my favorite pastimes), that would have been so much better if at least every now and then it was just his kids and not his girlfriend's kids. Don't get me wrong, we had a great relationship with them, but he was still OUR daddy, and we never really got that one on one time with him. This leads me to the affection part. That tomboyish demeanor must have made my father feel like I didn't need consoling; I just needed to brush it off. As a result, I grew up hiding my anguish, putting on a shell even when I was crumbling inside. I don't blame my dad for any of this, because he was young, and as we've both gotten older, our relationship has grown closer and continues to do so. However, I have to be honest in saying that I feel my relationship with him directly relates to what I crave and loathe in a mate. For instance, my father was completely oblivious to my feelings and being stood up or not getting that alone time. I become absolutely incensed when a man is unaware of my feelings. I know men aren't minded readers, and anyone who knows me knows I speak my mind, so when I feel like you lack empathy or consideration; it's a problem for me! My feelings need to be validated if you are to be my man.

        Not calling to say he wouldn't be coming that day was irresponsible (a young thing, so easily forgiven). Yet and still an irresponsible man is a huge turn off for me! My father got a pass because he was young and inexperienced, but any man that is over 30 in my life, needs to have it together. Those are two of my biggest deal breakers.

Consequently, what I crave in a man is what I’ve gotten and still get from my dad. I need you to make me feel like I matter to you; my struggles, my dreams, my wants, my fears, are all important to you. Your world doesn't have to revolve around me, but show up when it matters, when I need it most. I am a strong, independent, superwoman, blah, blah, blah, and I can do it all, blah, blah, blah, but who wants to? Hell, even Superman is clumsy, quiet Clark Kent sometimes. I want to be vulnerable, so I need someone who can allow me to do so. I need to know that if I'm off duty, my world won't come shattering down because I left it in your hands and you didn't handle it.

This is what makes love hard, like my girl Iyanla Vanzant wrote, love is easy, it's the expectations we place on it that make it rough. Understanding why we have those expectations can sometimes help us to recognize why we become disappointed in our loved ones, and how we can take some of that pressure off of them.

        It's tough to say what you need and why you need, but I am glad that I am at a place where I can say it without reservation to my man and to others. What about you? What do you need, why do you need it?