Category Archives: She. Me. Her.

Speak On It

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I’ve been talking for, well, as long as I can remember.  My mom told me that my first words were “apple juice,” which is not common for a baby (at least from what I’ve heard).  We were at a store and I saw something I wanted–apple juice–so I spoke on it.

In middle school and through college, I participated in an activity called forensics (a.k.a. speech and debate).  We traveled across the country–sometimes even around the world–to compete against other students.  I was lucky in that I was able to choose a number of the topics I spoke on, many of which involved being a Black woman in America.  That was my experience–and I wanted to educate others about that experience–so I spoke on it.

Sometimes people try to silence you because what you’re saying makes them uncomfortable.  To them I say, “Deal with it.”  There are plenty of things about this life that make me uncomfortable.  In fact, society actively works to make me feel uncomfortable with who I am and what I look like.  When I was younger, I kept quiet about a lot of things that made me uncomfortable.  Now that I’m a grown woman I know that what I have to say is valuable and deserves to be heard.  I will not quiet my voice just because the TRUTH I speak makes you squirm.

My challenge to you is:  Speak on it.  When you see injustice, speak on it.  When you feel strongly about a topic, speak on it.  To remain silent is to remain indifferent, and that won’t make the world better.

Black and Blue (unknown to you)

Posted in For I Am His, She. Me. Her. by

Blogger’s Note – April 28, 2015: I’ve been going back and forth in my head over whether or not to post this. It is deeply personal and, honestly, I was afraid to put the truth out there. God sent me a sign, so now I’m sharing this. Thank you to this blogger for allowing God to speak to me through you. I’m not afraid anymore. 

On the outside, I looked fine. 

On the inside, I was black and blue. 

The words he hurled at me left invisible scars. He called me stupid, ugly. He constantly picked me apart: my hair, my clothes, my weight, my job, my family, my friends. He said I deserved all the terrible treatment I’d gotten in the past. He said that no one else would want me. He yelled in my face until I was a puddle of tears. Once I screamed at him, pushed to the edge of sanity, “Why do you do this? Why do you always try to break me down?”

He didn’t say anything. 

He isolated me from my family and friends. If he could keep me from people who valued me, I would continue to feel worthless. I would continue to believe that all I had was him and the world he constructed for me: the feelings he told me to feel; the life he told me to live. 

No matter how hard I tried, I was never enough for him. And I did try. I stopped doing things I loved. I left people behind who had been there for me long before he had. I put him–his kids, his family, his finances, his feelings–before myself over and over and over again. He required–demanded–all of my time and attention. But it was never enough. 

I pretended. When I talked about my relationship, I was intentionally vague or only focused on the good parts. When asked how things were, my response was always “It’s fine.” “He’s fine.” “I’m fine.” But things were not fine. I felt like I was drowning and the person who was supposed to be my life boat was actually the current pulling me under.  

Thank God for the breaking point. Thank God for that night when He whispered to me, “Enough is enough. You were not meant for this,” and I finally heard Him. Too many times I had ignored His subtle revelations, but this time His whisper was a shout that woke me up. 

I’m a firm believer that God sends us trials to teach us. Not because He doesn’t care or wants us to suffer, but because He has a lesson we need to learn to get to the next level in life. I’ve learned my lesson. I will never forget it. 

“Enough is enough. You were not meant for this.”

On the inside now, I’m healing. 

 

Nail’d It

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I love getting my nails done. Not only does it look pretty, it also gives you the opportunity to check out for awhile. You can’t really text or tweet when your digits are getting buffed and polished to filth. 

You also get to meet some interesting people in the nail salon. Today I met an older lady who was visiting from Iowa. She said I was beautiful (so sweet!) and that I reminded her of her 13-year-old daughter (even sweeter!). She even showed me a picture of her and her two younger brothers. 

Priory to ending my engagement, I probably wouldn’t have decided to get my nails done on a whim. There was always a bill due, a field trip fee coming up, a random unexpected expense, or just not enough time to get away. I’m glad I can take the time to focus on me now. Not to mention my nails look sickening! 

Game day mani–the ring finger polish changes colors! #BBN  

Starts With Goodbye (a.k.a. How My Entire Life Changed Over a Single Weekend)

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Long story short, I’m not getting married anymore.  I’d rather not go into the gory details–those who need to know already do–and besides, the most important part of the story is that he’s gone.

So now I get to focus on me, which is something I haven’t done much over the past three years.  I’ve been thinking a lot about myself over this past weekend and I’ve come to some conclusions:

  • I like to fix people.  Call me the Olivia Pope of broken boys, if you will.  But sometimes you just can’t fix a person, and that’s okay.  The person God has intended for me won’t need to be fixed; God will have already prepared him for me.
  • I thought that putting myself first was selfish.  Putting yourself first isn’t selfish.  If you don’t put yourself first, who will?  If I don’t make myself the best person I can be, I won’t be the best person for someone else.
  • I can be willfully ignorant.  The warning signs about this relationship appeared LONG ago, but I chose not to see them.  However, God will make you get the message one way or another–I’m one that He has to bash over the head with stuff before I finally get it.
  • I am awesome exactly the way I am.  I’m not bragging; I’m speaking fact.  I shouldn’t have to change anything about myself for someone to love me.  If they don’t love me for who I am, they don’t deserve to marry me at all.

Throughout this ordeal I’ve also realized that I have the best friends and family on the planet.  They have supported me in so many ways and showed me that I am never alone.  I cannot begin to thank them for all that they’ve done for me.

Finally, I serve a God who will never, ever, EVER give up on me.  God will always deliver for His children, no matter what.  He brings people into our lives for a purpose and He takes them out of our lives for a purpose too.  Trust Him and you can’t go wrong–He won’t let you.

I guess it’s gonna have to hurt,
I guess I’m gonna have to cry,
And let go of some things I’ve loved,
To get to the other side,
I guess it’s gonna break me down,
Like falling when you try to fly,
It’s sad, but sometimes moving on with the rest of your life,
Starts with goodbye.

-Carrie Underwood, Starts With Goodbye

Taking a Risk By Being Myself

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This one made me MAD, folks.

On Sunday, I had a decision to make:  watch the Oscars (ridiculously long, lack of diversity, terrible jokes) or watch The Walking Dead (Michonne).  Welp, my mind was made up–no Oscars for *this* golden statuette.

Since I didn’t watch the ceremony, I also missed out on the red carpet.  Apparently, Disney Channel star Zendaya caused quite a stir with her choice of hairstyle.  Fashion Police correspondent Giuliana Rancic made a judgmental comment about Zendaya’s choice of hairstyle, stating “I feel like she smells like patchouli oil or weed. Maybe weed.”

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Zendaya looking glamorous at the Academy Awards!

Zendaya issued a very eloquent response on Twitter–you can read it here–but here is my less-than-eloquent response if you’re in the mood for something ratchet:

How DARE you?!?

First:  Giuliana, you look like you smell like Ex-Lax and low self-esteem.  (Since you want to judge others by their appearance, I assume you can handle it if others do the same to you.)

Second, comments like these are why Black people spent (and continue to spend) unnecessary time, effort, and money making our hair look “presentable” to the white majority.  As a young girl, I had to endure torture from the teeth of the hot comb my mother heated up on the stove to make my hair “pretty” (meaning STRAIGHT).  I wrapped towels and blankets around my head and wished that I had long, straight, blonde hair because the hair that I had was “ugly,” “greasy,” “nappy,” and “hard to manage.”

When I was finally “old enough” (meaning IN ELEMENTARY SCHOOL) to get a chemical relaxer, I had to endure scalp burns and hair loss every six weeks until I was old enough to figure out that I didn’t need chemically straightened hair to be beautiful.  Note:  That didn’t happen until, like, 2011.

Third, every single day that I wear my hair natural (meaning not chemically straightened, processed, or otherwise altered–a.k.a. the way God gave it to me) I run the risk of being seen as less than by others.  Less professional, less feminine, less clean, less intelligent, less beautiful. This is a risk I take because I believe God makes no mistakes and my hair is SICKENING just the way it grows it of my head.

It should not be risky behavior to be yourself. NO ONE SHOULD MAKE YOU FEEL INFERIOR FOR BEING WHO YOU ARE.

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Natural hair, don’t care!

Note:  This post has been updated to reflect that Kelly Osbourne did not make any negative comments on Zendaya’s hairstyle.  In fact, she came to Zendaya’s defense in a very public way.

I’m Lovin’ It: Part Three

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Today, I’m loving my training skills. My manager and I met today (as we do each week). She reviewed the trainee evaluations from one of my recent classes. Not only were my scores nearly perfect, my co-trainer also saw a marked improvement in her scores–more so than with any other person she’s trained with!

My natural public speaking abilities and deep knowledge of our product are my favorite things about myself today!