Think of social media as a scrap book or family photo album. Picture your mother or grandmothers photo album on the coffee table. I don’t know about you, but I have seen those photos a hundred times and I never tire of them. They make me feel good. In every picture, the subjects can be found living, laughing and loving. In every picture I feel positive energy.
I haven’t seen a photo of a divorce decree, a police report from a domestic dispute, a custody order or a child’s failing report card in there. I’m sure the people in the photos experienced some of those things. YET… I have never had any expectation to find that information or evidence of that information in the photo album. I look at that book to see the very best of the people in it; not the worst. So, why do we look at social media any different?
Stop crucifying folks for only showing you the best of their life. That behavior only exposes the worst in you.
I can’t sleep. It is currently 2:06am and ya girl is sitting at the kitchen table talking to you. Not that I don’t enjoy y’all, but you know. The room is the right temperature, my bed is super comfy and I’m freakin sleepy. Not to mention my handsome, lightly snoring husband is up there. Buuuuuuut so is my toddler. So there’s that.
It’s raining cats and dogs, which usually equates to excellent sleep. Not today. Today I am awake. Because this rarely happens to me— I know something is up. I’ve always been a night owl, but this ain’t that. I am not currently choosing to be awake. My mind is trespassing. It won’t stop wandering over my life.
I wasn’t really mad about the letter itself. I was initially alarmed, but not mad. I became annoyed and irritated when the rep wouldn’t own that the letter was dishonest. What I quickly understood was that even though I was right; it didn’t matter. Also, Conner didn’t have the authority, awareness or capacity to apologize and I couldn’t make him. My feelings about this ultimately inconsequential situation were really about other people I have encountered in my life who are quick to deflect responsibility and refuse to own their mistakes and shortcomings.
I allowed myself to be triggered. I became angry and frustrated because I have not healed the places in my heart where people I have been in relationship with wouldn’t be honest and own their shit.
Here’s what I know. I know that in my past I have judged people for being in a way that made me uncomfortable. “Why is she so loud? Why does she always have something to say about everything? Damn.” These people usually irked me. They had not attacked me or been negative toward me in any way. And yet— I was annoyed.
I realized that my annoyance was about me; not them. It was directly related to my insecurities… to my fear. I was uncomfortable because these women were free in a way that I was not. They had either consciously or unconsciously decided that how they showed up in the world was not for the comfort of other folks. In other words— Their behavior was for them; not me.
We need to talk. I’m not even sure where I’m going today. I just need to get this out. I want to talk about acceptance in friendship. Like, really accepting people for who they are. I don’t know about you, but I find it truly inconvenient. I have always been a person who had a strong sense of right and wrong. Not in a self righteous way. I’ve done plenty of wrong. It’s just… If people would just live life the way I think they should everything would be so much easier.
I love to see people live their best life… I believe in treating people well and I expect reciprocation.
The older I’ve gotten the more rigid I’ve become about what I am willing to accept in terms of integrity in relationships. Maybe that is in part because I have so much more to give now. These years have given me so much insight on how to be for others.
The entire cast is stellar, but I absolutely do have my favorite characters. Randall and Beth, otherwise known as R&B, are my dream characters. I see my husband and I in both of them. And isn’t referring to them as R&B, i.e. Rhythm and Blues, totally appropriate? Yesssss. Because sometimes marriage is all Ain’t Nobody(Chaka Khan) and other times it’s more End of the Road(Boys II Men). You feel me??
The last few weeks have almost exclusively focused on Randall and Beth. I’ve had some loving, harsh words for Randall recently. I love him SO much, but bruh has been T R Y I N G it. I’ll admit I lost faith in faith in him. I wasn’t sure his love for Beth was greater than his need to be seen and valued by the masses. His abandonment issues have always left him striving for worthiness outside of himself.
I’m so happy I was wrong. The sigh that escaped my body was definitely audible when I realized the two would find their way back to each other. They found the door. Even as a fictional couple, I understand the impact of authentic representation.
Then, something broke in me as I approached my 40’s. I remember telling a dear friend, “I just feel so open.” I didn’t even understand the extent to which I was open and how my life would change as a result. I just felt the opening so strongly. And it wasn’t that I didn’t care what other people wanted or thought. It was more that what I wanted and thought was finally my priority. It was as if everything I was suppressing refused to remain submerged. My heart and mind insisted on BEING in the way God initially created me. I remembered who I was and I refused to abandon her again.
Growing up Black is a be seen and not heard kind of existence. In my experience, to find a Black child with the authority to fully BE, in the presence of adults is the exception; not the rule. Control, rules, excellence and respectability are major components of the Black child rearing experience. Black children need to grow up with their shit together. This didn’t happen in a vacuum. It’s a direct result of slavery, Jim Crow, the Civil Rights Era and a post racial America *side eye*. The privilege of speaking about anything at anytime was snatched from us and whipped out of us on slave ships, auction blocks, in the fields and in the big house.
Saying the “wrong” thing or being at the “wrong” place at that time could get an adult or even a child, literally killed— It still can. We have too many examples. Being seen and not heard is not a simplified way to parent; it’s a safety mechanism. Part of the Black experience is simply trying to keep your children alive in a way that it isn’t true for other races. The same is true of how we are steered towards career choices. Careers that are perceived as frivolous, i.e. dancer, artist or musician are not routinely supported.
Date who you want when you want. Put yourself in a situation where you have choices. Men always have choices. That’s why he’s texting what are you doing instead of CALLING to ask your availability. TRUST… someone is getting a call— It’s just not you.
Wanna know something else? I don’t care what he tells you. New Year’s Eve is one of the best relationship barometers. He is not just chillin at the crib on Christmas or New Year’s Eve. His insistence that he just isn’t a big fan of holidays is a lie. New Year’s Eve is the climax of “Do we go together or not” season. If you and your significant other are not together on any of these holidays, but especially New Year’s Eve... one of you isn't significant. *blank stare* If the person you're "dating" hasn't asked you out yet— he has another date and again... One of you isn't significant.
I love this platform… this blog I created to share my experiences and express myself. On the surface that’s what this blog is. It’s a tangible conduit for my thoughts. In essence, it’s a journal. A very public journal. Everything I write here is true. Don’t get me wrong, I love creative writing and I have some of that in my repertoire too. Still, the only creative license I take when writing here is the names I change to protect privacy.
I use my life as a catalyst for reflection. I am transparent to influence and impact those who humble me by reading my words. I think it’s funny though… Sometimes, I start writing and I influence and impact my own self #Winning. It can be frustrating because I start writing with the end in mind and then I get in it and reflection takes me somewhere else. I love writing. I love reflection more.
It is our job to combat misogyny, toxic masculinity, predatory behavior and rape culture by educating and empowering children. Talk to them about predatory behavior and grooming. Tell them, age appropriately, what these creeps say and do… Wait. Obviously, parental discretion should be used, but nothing predators do or say is age appropriate.
Tell your children the truth.
Tell your them what predators say and how they manipulate.
And for God’s sake stop insisting your kids hug and kiss everybody. What if I told you— YOU are grooming your own child for predators. You are the biggest obstacle to your child’s understanding that permission to touch their body can only be given by them.
As I began to reflect; expectation boiled down to two things: Vulnerability and Trust.
We have previously discussed vulnerability. I have written about its’ importance and the strength we find when we embrace vulnerability. Yet, here I was beating myself up for being vulnerable… for opening myself up to disappointment. This is why I say, “I’m not here because I’m an expert. I’m here because I have experiences.”I’m no master at this. I’m struggling and growing and learning just like you. I stand out only because I share my experiences; not because I’ve mastered them.
I’ve said it many times and I’ll say it again today. You are your only competition. The moment you start competing with other people; you've already lost. The only person I want to be better than is the woman I was yesterday. And listen, I think the woman I was yesterday is pretty dope, but I know on this journey there’s always room for growth. I cannot compare the today me against the today you because it is impossible to do and it just doesn’t make sense.
In scientific terms, when doing an experiment, to see the similarities and differences in something you would have to watch those things exclusively from start to finish; recording everything. You would need to know all variables or things effecting the subjects of the experiment. And therein lies the problem with social media. You can not see all the variables in the life of someone else.
You know…. I almost posted a different blogpost, but then that would be compromising my entire purpose and mission. I don’t want to look or sound a particular way to those of you who read my words and keep up with me. I don’t want to portray a woman who always has perfect brows and hair with a fully beat face. I refuse to act like every day of my life is rainbows, glitter and baby giggles. I’m not playing a character on this blog or other social media platforms and I don’t want to. I want to BE who I say I am. And sometimes I’m a mess.
Fast hard truth. Our kids don’t need to be friends in order for us to be friends. Step further: I really don’t even need to see your child for us to be friends. Like we can share stories about our children… We can talk about their grades… How much we love them…. How they get on our nerves… We can even go shopping for them together. And we can leave it right there.
If you’re the one saying I don’t hang with women because DOT DOT DOT reasons… If you subscribe to a women are too messy ideology… If you’re an I-stay-to-myself-because-people-start-too-much-stuff-that’s-why-I-don’t-have-any-friends type of individual… It’s not me or them. It’s you. The problem is you. You are the people starting too much stuff. You are the messy boots. You are the singular reason you don’t have any friends.
