2015: Dragging The Broken

It's time to say goodbye to 2015. It's amazing how much your life can change in a matter of 12 months. So my dearest blog here is my 2015 life change story. Keep it in your care...I have no use for it.

Those who know me well equate Cynthia with church. When my friends wanted to hang out I always had something to do at my church. "Girl, you always at that church," I'd hear on Friday nights. But the reality is I enjoyed being at church.

The Bible clearly states: "forsake not the fellowship of the Saints..." There is something precious and earnest about working together with them that love GOD.

My parents got married at church. My Mommy carried me in her womb at that very same church. My parents raised me in that church. I along with those I grew up with were labeled "church babies." I grew up in that church. Had my first stupid crush at church. I considered my church family my real family. A true kinship. My passion for the arts stemmed from the birth of the orator inside me right in that church. My dedication to serving the homeless and working with children was cultivated at that church. I often get praised about being a great leader and developing quality programming for both adults and children which I can only attribute to the practice I got being a leader and creating quality programming at church. I can close my eyes and still see clearly the hundreds of people lined up to say their goodbyes to my Daddy at his funeral held at that church. My God Mother whom my parents met at church was the only best friend I had growing up. I learned the importance of standing up for what I believe in at church. I was afforded the blessing of becoming a God Mother to a girl child because of the out pouring of benevolence manifested at church. Church was a major part of my course as a young woman.

In 2015 my church reality changed. The kinship I thought I developed with some people at my church revealed itself to be a farce. And it broke me mentally, physically, spiritually and emotionally.  So whilst GOD was still moving me to greater things and opportunities in 2015 I was holding on with broken pieces and I couldn't really enjoy it. I spent the majority of 2015 second guessing myself. I developed anxiety attacks which if you have never experienced is the most scariest situation to be in. But the most hurtful part of it all is watching how it has also hurt my Mommy, although she never skips a beat and remains a super hero.

But in life the unpleasant moments are often coupled with mind blowing experiences that outweigh those unpleasantries. You ever see a kid walking down the street with their parents and they are attached to their parents via a leash of sorts? When I was growing up it was literally a long elastic band, with velcro cuffs at each end, my Mommy would secure one cuff on my wrist and the other on hers and she would drag me downtown to the "Taste of DC." I was a chubby chocolate thing and hated walking, so I would moan and groan but she didn't care. She just kept walking 100 miles per hour just dragging my poor thick thighed self down Constitution Avenue. Nowadays the baby leashes have gotten much fancier. Kids now have little stuffed animal harnesses on, with a long elastic band attached to their parent's wrist. The drag however is still the same. The poor babies are still whining down the street. That pretty much sums up my year. I wanted to give up. I didn't feel like moving. But GOD dragged me from one opportunity to the next. Broken pieces and all. With Him I managed to:

• Push my company's mission further.

• Direct two successful professional shows.

• Produced two podcasts of which one has developed a strong following.

• Spent 10 months writing for one of the top lifestyle sites for African American Women.

• I met some amazing people that supported my business.

• I received an outpouring of love and support from people whom I adore.

• I was able to support my fellow Black female entrepreneurs work by showcasing them in my writing.

• I nurtured and motivated young artists.

• I was able to sit down and meet with one of the top Black female directors in Washington, DC.

And the list goes on.

And now because of all of the hard work done in 2015, pretty much every weekend in January 2016 is already booked and I can't even take an ounce of credit. It was all GOD! So I praise him for the drag and not leaving me when I needed Him most.

"Heartbreak opens onto the sunrise for even breaking is opening and I am broken, I am open. Broken into the new life without pushing in, open to the possibilities within, pushing out. See the love shine in through my cracks? See the light shine out through me? I am broken, I am open, I am broken open. See the love light shining through me, shining through my cracks, through the gaps. My spirit takes journey, my spirit takes flight, could not have risen otherwise and I am not running, I am choosing. Running is not a choice from the breaking. Breaking is freeing, broken is freedom. I am not broken, I am free." -Pariah (2011)

I CAN'T

I can’t stop talking about being a Black girl

A woman of color

I only see the beauty in my sun kissed

Liberally blessed

Melanin rich skin

I can’t stop talking about being a Black Christian girl

Who feels deeply about maintaining my relationship with GOD

I crave daily spiritual cleansing

A feeding

A WORD

Age coupled with experiences

My interest in man’s idea of religion

Has waned

I cherish my one on one time with GOD

Thus avoiding the castigation of the “saints”

I can’t stop talking about being a Black Christian FAT girl

Morbidly obsessed with following my dreams

I understand I gotta do something about this weight

Both alive and dead

Treadmill runs to the Son

I bathe in excellence first

Yet imprisoned by the numbers on a scale

I’m FAT not deaf

I can hear the ridicule and disgust

Yet you secretly lust to meet & greet

The purity between my big ass thighs

I can’t stop talking about being a Black Christian FAT Artistic girl

Who’s finally found her calling

Her divine purpose

Spent years hiding from it

Until it is what I needed to live
To breathe

To cope

I’m transfixed by the aesthetic of the pictures in my dreams

Positioned into real time

Real space real place

If only for a millisecond

My soul leaves my body

And I can see her

Open

Free

True Love

GOD

This must be what junkies feel like

The anxiety

The itch

The yearning

Constantly chasing that first high

I’m chasing the pictures in my dreams

Positioning them into real time

Real space real place

& waiting

For that millisecond

When my soul escapes my body

& I can see her

I can see GOD

I’m anxiously

Itching

& yearning

To see the art inside my soul

Take the breath of life.

Who else but GOD?

I can't.

I can’t stop.

I can’t stop being.

Me.

Nice Guys Will Always Finish FIRST...

In 2012 there was a scientific study done with college students and published in a Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin that finds men who are nice are often ignored and put on the back burner in society. Thus perpetuating the phrase "Nice guys finish last." Even the word nice is used in very flat, non-emotive, dismissive sort of way when people want to describe something or someone. The word nice can lack zest and spunk like some of its synonym colleagues, amiable and commendable. I argue however, that this scientific study is refutable and inaccurate.

Nice is the nucleus of what a great person should be. Therefore nice guys won't ever finish last. They are always one step ahead of everyone else because they have truly embodied the heart of Christ.

Yesterday, August 3, 2015 Jimmy (James) Jones, one of the nicest men I've known, transitioned into the heavenly realm. Jimmy was always one step ahead of the rest in faith, in jest, in love, and in conduct. This was a man who embraced people as his family. This was an impeccable trait of Jimmy's especially living in a world where people pride themselves on judging and isolating others. Jimmy was the polar opposite of society's norm. He embraced quite a few us by calling us his sister or his brother, a title that he meant and took very seriously. From the phone calls, messages, words of encouragement and hugs to making sure we got in the Beyonce concert, were safe in the clubs, and hydrated at the zoo, his sister/brother sentiment proved not to be just words. We had in fact become Jimmy's blood siblings. 

Jimmy's family and church family both are mourning our loss. But through our broken hearts we find comfort in knowing that there's no safer place he can be than in the arms of the Master. Jimmy has proven and taught us that nice, amiable, kindhearted, well-mannered, courteous, gracious and obliging  guys will always finish first and receive the greatest reward and that is seeing our Savior face to face.

Have a blast up there big brother! 

Don't worry about Tiff, Jayla, or Tae Tae. Your family will cover them with the same love you have always shown us.

"Then I saw “a new heaven and a new earth,” for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and there was no longer any sea.  I saw the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride beautifully dressed for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Look! God’s dwelling place is now among the people, and he will dwell with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. ‘He will wipe every tear from their eyes.There will be no more death’ or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.” (Revelation 21:1-4)

"Choices" in the "Silver Lining" (Celebrating My Day of Birth)

when i can't express

what i really feel

i practice feeling

what i can express

and none of it is equal

i know

but that's why mankind

alone among the animals

learn to cry.

--Nikki Giovanni "Choices"

It's that time of year again. My birthday! Dirty 30...+2!

A friend of mine reminded me that I hadn't posted my usual birthday blog(s) so I had to get on it ASAP.

This year has truly been an eye-opening year for me.

A year of growth. 

A year of mistakes.

A year of dreams becoming realities. 

A year of disappointment and heartbreak. 

A year of sweat-less victories. 

All of which would not have happened if I wasn't living life to the fullest. And life ain't worth living if GOD ain't the center of it all!

As I enter into a new year of life I am grateful and humble to be afforded another opportunity to continue living the best life I can.

The opportunity to make my parents proud.

The opportunity to learn from my mistakes.

The opportunity to see my dreams come to fruition.

The opportunity to heal from hurt and heartbreak.

The opportunity to glorify the One who moves mountains out of the way so I can be victorious.

Lots of people have asked me what I want for my birthday? Crazy thing is everything I want isn't even materialistic. However, I will share the list with you:

--More of GOD
--Wisdom and discernment
--To continue to see the world
--To always be able to see the silver lining
--Eternal happiness for me, my friends, and my family
--A successful run of my show (baby) L'Africain Saccharine Ballad (get your tickets here...shameless plug)
--To be able to help Ladybug be the best she can be
--The unnecessary police violence against our Black boys/men (and girls/women) to stop.

June 10th is the best day of the year. Gemini is the best sign in the Zodiac. I am attempting to be the best woman I can be.

This week literally goes down in history as the best week ever...my birthday, my kids musical performances, and Season 3 of Orange Is The New Black is back!

What more can a girl ask for?

So if I'm looking up don't mind me
But I can't be, (I just can't be) I can't be down no more
And if you don't know where to find me
I'm out looking
I'm looking for the silver lining
The silver lining, and I don't know where
But I'm hoping I'll find it
I'm looking for the silver lining
--Jazmine Sullivan "Silver Lining"

VENTING FAT GIRL/Southwest Airlines

My sweet sweet blog.

I need to talk to you. More like vent.

My first article on Madame Noire aimed to celebrate those plus sized actresses that are making history in Hollywood. I wanted to acknowledge them and speak on how proud I was of them. After the article posted I made the mistake of reading the comments people wrote.

Out of over twenty comments only one joined me in celebrating these women. The others made sure they gave the women their personal medical diagnosis and threw around the term obesity like fresh $1 bills in a stripper joint. People commented that they cringe when they see Gabourey Sidibe on screen and anticipate hearing she has died from a heart attack. But my favorite one said we need to stop celebrating fat women, these women could die from being so over weight.

I didn't really have it in me to be on the defense about the comments because the fact is: when you are fat, you know you are fat. Period. You know the health risks involved with being fat. You are scared of dying from diseases like diabetes and high blood pressure. Everyday you look into the mirror you can see how fat you are. And I'm pretty sure with all of the reminders we fat girls get from our doctors, family, and friends we don't need an extra reminder from keyboard happy, internet junkies, who spend their lives making useless and insulting comments on blogs. Hell, my own grandmother wrote a letter saying she didn't want a fat granddaughter so these comments are irrelevant in the grand scheme of things.

Let's clear up some misconceptions, shall we?

• Just because a woman is fat doesn't mean she is lazy.

• Just because a woman is fat doesn't mean she doesn't work out. 

• Just because a woman is fat doesn't mean she is not making strides to live a healthier lifestyle. 

• Just because a woman is fat doesn't mean she spends her days eating all the time. 

• Again, she is perfectly aware that she is fat. She knows her health risks and she doesn't need you to remind her of them.

I am just as irate about this issue as I am about racism across the world and gender inequality. If you are Black, a woman and overweight you might as well be the scum of the earth because that is how we are treated and why?

Since when does a number on a scale determine the type of person you are?

Since when do rolls, muffin tops, and spare tires determine if you would be a good employee or not?

Why is the size of your waist a determining factor of beauty?

I recently took a trip to New Orleans. One of my favorite cities. New Orleans is a city rich in Black history, culture, and southern hospitality. Its one of the few cities I can honestly say I feel free in. Just free to be me...no judgement. I can walk down the street, fat, and not have to worry about whispers, strange looks or sly comments. Most importantly New Orleans reminds me that in spite of a disaster in your life you can rebuild and still be great.

I arrived to the Southwest Airlines terminal at DCA headed to New Orleans and was ready to have a great time! As I was waiting at the gate for my flight to board a Southwest Airlines agent approached me and asked me was I going to New Orleans? I said yes, and she then asked to see my boarding pass. Now with all of this new technology in place you can have your boarding pass on your phone. I pulled my phone out and she looked at it and walked away. They called the flight to board and I was brought over a paper boarding pass and a ticket that said "place this reserved ticket in the seat pocket next to you." I was a bit confused but thought nothing of it.

Preparing to come home from New Orleans I was unable to check-in to my flight the night before as I usually do. When I called I was told that I had been pre-assigned a seat and would have to check-in at the airport. This was strange to me because Southwest has a first come first serve seating arrangement. I get to the airport and I am handed a boarding pass, the same reservation ticket reserving the seat next to me as my departure flight from DCA, and a pre-boarding ticket for "disability" reasons. No one would tell me why this was done.

Then it became clear I had been labeled disabled because of my size and I had to reserve the seat next to me because no one wants to sit next to a fat girl on the plane. I am judged not only because I am Black, not only because I'm a woman, but add being fat to that equation and you have degradation at its finest.

I could use this section to argue how far from disabled I am and how my fat cells aren't spewing over to the plane seats next me but I'll refrain. What I will do is go back to the comment that we need to stop celebrating fat girls that an ignoramus wrote under my article. Ain't nobody celebrating us bruh! We are ridiculed, labeled, demeaned, humiliated, judged, tormented, and the butt of every damn joke.
So if writing articles to uplift and motivate another Black woman who happens to be fat is what I have to do, then that is what I'm going to do! Somebody needs to say hey you are smart, talented, beautiful, motivating, remarkable and your weight won't ever change that! The world may be against you but don't let that stop you!

I am so sick of this consistent attack against difference in humanity by the most inconsistent groups of people!

Do not pass GO, do not collect $200 hundred dollars...just make sure you are dressed appropriately for the heat in hell. 

I SPY: The Woes of Social Media

Dear Confessions of a Purse Carrier,

I know I haven't told you the news but I recently was given the opportunity to write for Madame Noire. An opportunity that was orchestrated by GOD and manifested through you. I realize now that all of the posts I have made on this blog mattered. Though I was just using you as my personal virtual diary not caring really if people read you or not, people were actually reading and clearly liked what they had read. Who knew? I just want to say thank you. Thank you for letting me be me. I have written quite a bit and left it here for you to bare. I've dealt with heartache, successes, epiphanies, and dreams right here on this blog. I even pissed a few people off. Ce la vie. I didn't have to worry about MLA standards or run on sentences I just wrote for love of writing and you sustained that love. I didn't have to worry about an editor tweaking my voice. Every word was all authentically mine and that's why I will always cherish you. I promise I will at least leave a word here every now and then. You are my first love. You gave my soul a voice. Now I get paid for doing what I love and that in itself is a gift. I'm forever indebted to you. 

Love,

Creme

A popular game with Elementary aged children is "I Spy." It's so interesting to see how much of a kick they get out of it while the teacher is only using it as a strategy to keep them cool, calm, and collected. During "I Spy" the designated spy says "I spy with my (insert eye color here) something that's (insert the color or shape of an object that's in the room here)." Those trying to figure out what the spy is talking about begin to call out things around the room that fit the description. Whomever guesses correctly usually becomes the spy and the game repeats itself. Easy enough right? I think this game is great for school aged children it strengthens observation and critical thinking skills. It even in many ways builds confidence. But I have found that adults are playing this game everyday especially on social media and honey, it's driving me bananas. 

Social media is an ingenious way to stay connected with friends and family. It's also a tool you can use to network, share successes, and market your business and/or brand. Remember when Facebook was only for college students and if you didn't have a college email address you couldn't join? I was so happy to find people I went to Elementary school with and was a Student Ambassador with all having gone to college. Then Facebook unlocked it's doors and everybody and they Mama (literally) is on the Book. That to me is still not a bad thing. I have found so many people I have lost contact with over the years and have always wondered about. I am still looking for my Third grade teacher and have faith that Facebook will help me find her. But the trouble is once people have added you and begin posting their life moments the "I Spy" shenanigans begin.

I am a person who pretty much enjoys minding my business. However, I do enjoy some good tea if you are spilling. But for the most part I enjoy staying in my lane. But when you scroll down your timeline and people you follow have posted their business in what they feel is a vague way, you are forced to play "I Spy" with them and the mess of their lives. I don't want to see in my newsfeed you arguing with your man about why his socks and shoes are on the floor of another woman's house. I don't want to see your status where you are clearly reading or cussing somebody out but fail to mention their name. I don't want to see a thousand picture photo album of you and the very same people you say you can't stand. So because our brains are not equipped to just pass this stuff by or ignore it people are forced to discuss it, guess what is going on or decipher what you are talking about. 

We need social media etiquette classes! First class is free but every time you slip up there's a penalty fee. Five or more slip ups you are restricted access for a month. What ya'll think? I have debated for awhile deleting social media sites like Facebook. I noticed a few of my friends leave and come back probably because they got sick of playing "I Spy." I've deleted people, changed settings, blocked and still things manage to pop up. In this day and age and especially as I am in pursuit of my life's goals it is not smart to not have a social media presence. With that being said join me for a brief moment in a social media peace keeping attempt. I compiled a very short list that will help us coincide in a peaceful, non Elementary school game sort of way:

1. Don't argue with your significant other on social media. Save that for home and have the cops on speed dial.

2. If you are cheating on your mate don't post pics, tag, check-in, comment under posts with the one you are cheating with. Please. Trust me it all goes down hill.

3. Stop reading and cussing people out without tagging them. If you feel the urge migrate to Twitter it's great for venting.

4. Stop talking about people if you are going to hang out with them and take pictures documenting your excursions.

5. Post more about your accomplishments, travels, kids, things or moments in time that make you happy. We want to celebrate with you!

6. Lay off the reposts of kids fighting each other and participating in sexual acts. It's despicable and diminishes your character.

7. Stop tagging yourself in locations that would lead us to believe you are in some sort of danger without an explanation (i.e. hospitals, police precincts, prisons, scene of the crime, the trunk of a car).

8. I'm not opposed to you taking pics at funerals. The way in which you document your loved ones funeral is your prerogative. But the moment you decide to post the selfie you took with a corpse please ask GOD to redirect your path.

I hope this helps somebody and we can live happily every after in social media land. 

It's Time (Part II): The Secret Society of the Literary Militia

I often thank God that I didn’t grow up in fear like many children nowadays do. My mother and father had my brother and me late in life so I think they were already in grandparent mode. They didn’t really spank us as a means of discipline either. We occasionally got plucked or even worse guilt tripped. My mother never had to say a word. She would simply ignore us. Her silence stung worse than any belt ever could. Life was easy because my parents made sure we were allowed to be children. We weren’t exposed to adult things. That was a priceless gift they gave us. But in every great story there is a plot twist. Now, before I share this information with you I must forewarn you that everything you hear today is classified information and should not leave this page.

My parents used to drive a silver Ford Taurus. On the outside it seemingly showed their patriotism by supporting an American automotive company but on the inside, it was the dungeon of doom. Whenever we got into the car and the doors closed behind us, my loving parents, who had the temperament of grandparents, transformed into The Literary Militia. And my loving, sweet, mother? Commander-in-Chief! Whenever we rode in the car which, let’s be honest, was the majority of the time, my mother would not put the car into drive until my brother or I led us in prayer. After praying we had to read a passage of scripture, sing a song, read a poem, a story or a play, and read a Black History fact all before we reached our destination. Now you might be wondering where did we get this information that we were commanded to recite? Well, Commander-in-Chief Mommy, compiled notebooks, Literary Militia Codebooks, overflowing with laminated pages of sheet music, poetry, short stories, plays, famous speeches, scripture references, and Black History Facts. Everyday, more than once a day, on the way to church, to violin lessons, to school or the grocery store and don’t forget longer road trips, whenever we were in the car we had to read, recite, and memorize. From the age of 5 until I left for college at the age of 18, not one day went by where I wasn’t reading, reciting, memorizing or singing something from the Literary Militia Codebook. From the dungeon of doom behind the doors of the silver Ford Taurus birthed my passion for creating and telling stories. I grew to love the stories I was commanded to read and found myself in an Alice in Wonderland euphoria guided by prose. 

I want to write. 

I want to liberate words from the page. 

Bring the story to life. 

I am Langston.

Zora. 

Baldwin. 

I am Cynthia. 

Left with a gift to tell stories. 

Left with a gift to bring stories to life.

A gift I will never take for granted. 

The gift I hope to pass down to my children. 

The legacy I want to leave.

It's Time (Part I): "Dream Hoarder"

Awards season.

Golden Globes. SAG. Oscars. 

I enjoy watching the E! Red Carpet coverage and tweeting about my favorite looks of the evening.

Dior Couture. Armani. Christian Sirano. Ellie Saab.

Each gown artistically and aesthetically inspiring.

I rejoiced hearing some of my favorite shows like Orange Is The New Black and Downton Abbey took home wins.

I teared up with Uzo Aduba as she gave her acceptance speech.

I felt a sense of pride when Viola Davis walked the red carpet with her natural hair glowing in the clairvoyance of her crescent moon.

I felt an array of hope seeing Laverne Cox elegantly maneuver through her promise.

(A hope I haven't felt in a long time...)

But I couldn't help but feel an immense pain. Pain that guards the area where my dreams are stored. Packed away. Hidden. Safe.

I've become a dream hoarder.

Acting is my gift. So I'm told. 
I know it is. I know it is.

Somewhere along the way I hid it. Hid from it.

I knew as early as Elementary school that my journey towards realizing my dreams would be harder than most.

My acting teacher in high school told me, "You're gift is rare...you are going to change the face of Broadway and Hollywood both. I see it."

I took her words with me as I stood in line after line at audition after audition in every major city. To no avail.

I remember after I finished my audition at Julliard, I was in the hallway and I heard: "damn she's really good. She's just too fat. What can we do with her?" Those words stuck with me too.
I've hated NYC ever since by the way.

But I still want it. I do.

I still yearn for it. I do.

I still dream...

I...still...

It's time to unpack...

It's time to purge...

It's time to move...

It's time to progress...

It's time to realize...

It's...time...