Woman Circle

If you know me, then you know I suffered loss at an early age. In the past I felt deprived times two for losing my mother at 4 and my grandmother at 13. But the older I get, and the more self-reflective I become, I realize that through some sort of divine design, I had the opportunity to be molded by numerous beautiful, powerful, loving Black women, a few who have been completely pivotal.

My Ga-Ga

Who I write about extensively in my memoir, planted the seed of self-esteem in me by making me feel everything I did was wonderful. Her love and nurturing built the foundation for the Queen of Self-esteem.

 My paternal grandmother

When I used to spend the night at her house she was hardly there at night. She was hanging with her friends. She was out doing her thing. You know why, because she had raised her 8 kids. In my grandmother I learned that there is no honor in self-sacrificing and that as a mother who took care of everyone else, there was nothing wrong in taking me time. Yasssss!  

My maternal aunts

My aunt Gloria

  The image that will never leave my head is of playing outside and seeing her come walking down the street in a business suit and sneakers with her shoes in a bag. I thought it was fabulous, she was career woman, a mom and a wife.  That image of her found its way in my subconscious. I could do it all if I wanted.

My aunt Saundra

 She was the original Carrie from Sex in the City. Always dressed up and going out. But she also had a career. What I remember most about my childhood was that she would have relationship, but when she was no longer feeling it, she would bounce, leave, come back home if she needed to. Through her I learned that you don’t have to settle. She never settled, she got just what she wanted in a man, and he supports her career.

My aunt Sharon

 As the youngest, she was the one who had the birds and bees talk with me and my friends. She was young, cool, and smart. Her man was fine, so what she said had to be true. Even more importantly, when I was 12, she took and in my room and taught me about breast self-exams. It was the beginning about me being hyper vigilant about my health.

My aunt Gwen a.k.a Two Cent

 She passed away suddenly at age 36. She taught me about the brevity of life cherishing each moment. As a fellow poet we shared a love of arts and music. To this day when I hear the reggae tune, "Baby Can I hold you” I think of her. She was not afraid of being different. Neither am I.

 Carol (Hoffman) Sullivan

I truly don’t think I would have made it out of high school or adolescence without her.  I was in such a dark, secret place but she brought me out of it with her wit, her intelligence, beauty and empathy. And she looked me. ME who looked like no one with light eyes and light hair. Such an important thing for growing girls to see. ( If you have a picture of her, I'll take it).

Natalie Dorm

As my tutor, she was not for me playing small. I was intelligent, and I needed to embrace it. As an adult and colleague, she taught me that being an educator means speaking up about what matters, how to make English class something students would grow to love if you aren’t afraid to step outside the box. After watching her, I never stayed in the box.

 Dora Robinson 

She  taught me the importance of leadership and empowering other women. She did it by leading by example. She is the one who put me on my path of working with young people, simply because she wanted to help a single mom and college student who worked late nights at a gas station. She showed me how to play the game and  win!

 Marjorie Hurst

She is the one who, after a year of writing for her newspaper asked, “when are you going to make a book?” She planted a seed that sprouted into 11 publications to date. She also taught me the importance of networking. Had her son and I not been close friends, she wouldn’t have gotten my resume put to the top of a pile for what has been my career for 14 years.

Essie Lee

My eldest son’s grandmother taught me about resilience. We both lost our mothers at a young age and were raised by family. She was tough but loving, like me. When her son and I broke up, she gave me the best advice. She told me that even and especially when I’m feeling my worst, dress up. Never let them see you down. Today I still do it. When I’m sad,  or sick, lipstick and heels make it better, if only a little.

 Tammy Marie

My eldest son’s aunt helped me balance the tomboy in me as a young woman. As a woman 7 years older than me,  she taught me that even being a tomboy, I could still smell delectable, and turn on the sexy when needed. To this day, I sleep in nothing, but sexy clothes and I always smell amazing if I don’t say so myself.

 

 Of course, I continue to be shaped by women my age and elders from the present and past (perhaps I’ll share in another post). However, where I am right now, today, is because of the women who led by example. So how can I not? Cheers to #blackgirlmagic.

Art is Complicated

As I scrolled down my news feed all week I knew eventually I would end up writing a blog about this Bill Cosby drama.  I also knew that I had thoughts, but not a clear-cut conclusion. You have conspiracy theorists who feel this is all about deflecting Black attention away from other, more important world and US topics. Others feel it’s another smear campaign against another Black man, or that the “victims” are doing it for the money. Questions have arisen about why victims waited so long, and even who the victims are. Researchers refer to this as RMA ( Rape Myth Acceptance), ideologies about a sexual assault which blames the victims, minimize the incident,  or supports the perpetrator.  This is the reason why even though there are more than an estimated 17 million rapes in the US a year, less than a quarter of them are reported.  Some women choose to suffer silently than to deal with the backlash, people questioning her morality, her dress, her sexual past, her relationship with the perpetrator. And when no one says anything, it sends the message to the perpetrator that it is ok; yielding an even more intense feeling of power and control over victims.

When I think about the how many women continue to come forward, I think about Rosa Parks, and how Coretta Scott King referred to what would become known as the Montgomery Boycott as “Spontaneous Combustion…suddenly everyone had had enough.”  This a movement exploded because it was one incident too many. Sometimes victims of sexual assault or abuse are empowered by others who show courage in stepping forward despite the consequences and speculation. So even if she slept with fifty men prior to, if sex, touching, etc., is not consensual, then it is sexual assault. Period.

I love the artistry of Bill Cosby. But as a fellow artist, it seems that the most genius of artists are usually so because they have major issues.   If you look at the greatest artists in music, paint, print, or stage, you will see they struggle with physical violence, drug use, and/ or an array of mental health issues: Prince, Michael Jackson, Chris Farley, Lisa “Left Eye” Lopes, Freddie Prince, Robin Williams, Virginia Wolfe Whitney Houston, Van Gogh, Tupac,  Ernest Hemingway, Michelangelo, James Brown, Edgar Allen Poe, and the list goes on and on. But we still love their art. Sometimes I think maybe I’m not that great because I’m still sane. (Just kidding, I’m know I’m great!) I digress.

Anyway, I think one of the bigger issues here is this culture has tendency to make  put our  celebrities and pioneers on pedestals, forgetting they  too are flawed, have pasts, and are not who they appear to be in the spotlight. I mean look at the number of people who aren't even celebrities but who pretend on social media, that they are not broke, jobless, deadbeat mothers and fathers. Look at people who pretend their life is so great, their relationship is perfect, and they love themselves when in actuality, they are in an abusive relationship, or an uncommitted relationship, they are lonely, they hate themselves, they are suffering. So why is it that Cosby is not a fake, but so many others are? I am in no way saying that the man is guilty. That is for a judicial system and whatever higher power he may believe in to decide. But it is not our right to pass judgment on his alleged victims.

          I have decided that I will use my artistry, my past pain to teach and lead by example, and share my challenges and my flaws and let the world know I’m flawlessly flawed. Thus this blog, Wonderfully Imperfect and Full of Complexity. And I will still watch every rerun of the Cosby Show that airs, and I will laugh out loud  guilt-free at Theo's bootleg Gordon Gartrail shirt made by Denise, Vanessa getting yelled at for doing the Locomotion in midriff, Saundra owing Claire $79.648 and 22 cents for dropping out of college,  and Rudy's feminist banter with BUD. 

Purpose is Priceless

I sat up this past Wednesday night until 1:30 am (Thursday Morning) perfecting my PowerPoint presentation for the CHD Through Her Eyes Annual Conference. My third cup of coffee for the day was at 10:30pm. For a moment a voice in my head begin to complain, asking...Why are you doing this, it’s not like you are getting paid to be presenter? Yet this is the third year in a row you’re presenting? 

Then the other voice, the inner voice which knows me best said…It’s because you love what you do! It’s because you a have a gift and it’s only right you share it with others who work with young girls so they can be their best. You get so much, you have to give back. So I finished my pumpkin spice coffee and 3 hours later went to bed exhausted, but wired. Not from the coffee but from the anticipation I felt thinking about my workshop.  

                When I awoke 5 hours later, I had already learned a lesson, or should I say I was reminded of several: It’s not work when you do what you love! Nothing is handed to you, you want it be prepared to work for it!  When you want to give up, push harder, the finish line is right there!  As cliché as all these sound, all of these slogans were running through my mind.

            After facilitating my morning workshop “Defining Me” and performing spoken word at lunchtime, I felt I deserved some chocolate. When I whispered to my friend, she insisted I wait. In a room of at least 500 people, I’m thinking no one will miss me if I slip out and get a milk chocolate fix, but I agreed to stay. Well, it’s a good thing did, because five minutes later, I was called on the receive the EYES OF COURAGE award. Typically, people are aware they are receiving this and have time to prepare a speech. I, on the other hand, was completed clueless that I was a recipient this year. As my eyes teared up, it felt out of body to hear my bio read, to hear of my accomplishments, my qualifications, and most importantly my life’s mission. I was actually speechless. This has only occurred three times in life. This award means the world to me because I had a tough week, heck, a tough month dealing with some of the teen’s and their baggage.  This was like a gigantic road sign that says keep going, you are headed in the right direction. It was confirmation once again that I was living in my purpose and I am thankful for that. 

Empathy Matters

For many of us when we are little toddlers we live in this protective bubble created by our parents; we are loved, nurtured and made to feel like we can do anything. I was one of those people who was blessed enough to experience this. My grandmother didn’t have high school diploma, but she had good sense to love me and build me up enough to love myself. As we grow up, we step out into the real world and for some of us, it’s like stepping out into the street and being hit by a truck at full speed. We suffer irreparable hurt, because for some reason, people don’t see or don’t acknowledge our beauty, our talent, our existence. So we build wall to protect us, walk around in armored suits and masks not being our true selves. Or we imitate those who appear to be surviving a bit better than we are. I’ll admit, I’VE DONE IT. But I’m telling you, it was something about the way I was raised that never let me lose site of who I was (except when I wanted to be T-BOZ from TLC).


But what happens to those who never felt that protection; that initial unconditional love? Do they ever take off the armor and the mask? Do they ever truly discover their uniqueness; their greatness? It’s hard when the world around them isn’t empathetic and can’t even begin to conceptualize that this person is afraid, hurting, and unsure.

My job working with many youth who are in this predicament has helped me to become more accepting and aware when I come into adults I meet. Lucky for them ;) it allows me to be more patient when I come across people who rub me the wrong way. I don’t have to be friends with them, but I can try to be understanding of the fact that they, like all of us have some unresolved issues. So I don’t go off on them, I don’t internalize their behavior. I can brush it off and keeping it moving, or perhaps be that sunshine they need for the day. This is called GROWTH. And my interaction with them, my response, may help them to grow as well.

    "Do not judge your neighbor until you have walked two moons in his moccasins." -Cheyenne Tribe

The Next Chapter

It's a truly amazing experience when your dreams start to come true! What was once an idea, is now a reality. After my graduation party and book signing, I read all of my cards and I really absorbed what they had to say. See, I'm so used to jumping, sometimes head first, from goal to the next, that I don't take the time to sit back, and enjoy the accomplishment. When it's all over I take time to reflect, but it's always on what's next. What will be my next challenge, and how will I meet it! It took me reading some of the congrats cards from family and friends that made me realize...I've done great things, and I shouldn't minimize it. Here I am, the self-proclaimed DIVA and Queen of Self-esteem, yet I look at my accomplishments as, "I did it, and a big deal, a lot of people do it." So while I'm proud, I just feel like sooo many others are capable of the same thing, that it never is a big deal. But again, the cards and the tears on my day from a couple of good friends helped me to see that even though many have accomplished what I have, and many ARE capable, so many more people don't do it. They are too afraid, busy making excuses, and blaming circumstances, they don't step out and leap. Why is that? I don't think it's fear of failure, I think it's fear of success. I know for me as soon as I get close to a dream before I touch it, I pause, and ask, "Is this for real? Is this really gonna happen...for ME?" Then I say, " Hell, yeah, because I worked hard for this, and I deserve it." But still, that quick pause is something I am struggling to stop doing. I cannot allow myself to question whether something I dream is really happening, because that's what it's all about.

The second part of it all is being an inspiration to others. We all have role models, and people we look up to, but what I've discovered recently, is that a lot more people see me as a tangible role model than I've thought. It's a surreal feeling because I know, that while I'm on my way to becoming the woman I want to be, I'm still not quite there yet. So to know that what I've done so far has influenced so many....well, a sista get kinda emotional. ( Shhh! Don't tell anybody)

So what's next for me? I want to promote the HELL out of my memoir. I want this book to be something that social services organizations, schools, and parents embrace and use as a tool for our young girls of color. I want to continue to grow as a person that I can fully live out my mission " to inspire others through poetry and stories, and through leading by example with courage, confidence, and integrity."

So what do you think? This blog is my journal, but you're more than welcome to comment. Peace Eternally, Brenda's Child