Mrs. Allycia Atania

My heart is exposed. 

Its beat is steady, but is residing outside of my chest post my recent trip into Maui. 

Instead of my usual written soliloquy detailing the ins and outs of this adventure, I’ve decided to table it. Instead, I want to dedicate this post to a woman who I have known since freshman year of high school. My ride, ain’t no need to die, closest friend, Mrs. Allycia Atania.

I vaguely remember high school. Allycia knows this as she’s constantly trying to get me to remember things. I remember people and she remembers things/events. Sometimes even dialogue. It’s a much-needed balance especially as we age. Anyway, I can’t say I remember first seeing her in high school. I do remember the turn to your left and right speech they give to Ellington students, foreshadowing that everyone in the freshman class won’t make it to senior year. I hated that speech. What an insensitive speech to give some of the most talented 13/14 years olds from all over the District who literally bust their asses and had enough courage to even be sitting in this cold ass professional Theater talking about some of us won’t “make it," I thought. No literally, I busted my ass walking up the stairs to the school on the first day but that's another post for another time. I recently found out that students who lived in Ward 8 in the late 90s early 2000s, were picked up by a bus the city arranged and brought uptown to the mean streets of Georgetown. The lengths so many children and their parents had to go through to “make it” to the school building everyday should have been considered before making this speech. I thought to myself, 'what does “make it” even mean? Why can’t we work as a team to help each other “make it” to wherever this “it” place is you are talking about? But by now you know I can write a book on the ways in which some educators use mental abusive tactics and conveniently label them as "tough love." This fiery way of thinking and questioning was evident in Allycia too which is why I think we clicked. Our inner thought conversations with each other are epic!

First day of school, I was looking for this dude Solomon. Solomon was fine as hell and would cut across my middle school playground to go to Safeway. My middle school was across the street from Ellington. I found out he was a senior and I was ready to shoot my shot, not really (lol). I was not about that life, but I damn sure took my time to look at the brotha. This is the first time I think I saw Allycia. She was walking near Solomon down the hall. I remember thinking to myself, “her hair is so pretty!” Now, I’m sure Allycia has her own version of first meeting me. She even says I got on her nerves. Nonetheless, we became thick as thieves. Allycia was the first person to teach me the importance of your name, advocating for yourself, and demanding that people pronounce it correctly. She would phonetically sound out her name for any and everybody. "UH-LEE-SEE-UH!" We are both June Geminis, love to read, and absolutely love the art of Theater. We spent lots of time together in and out of school. My mom would drive us around and my dad would cook for us. She is a huge part of my family. 

 

We had disagreements like most teenage girls do. She says I always “stopped talking to her” when I was mad. In my defense, even till this day, I don’t be feeling like talking man (lol). We always managed to work it out and we’d back being carefree little Black girls in no time. Allycia helped me figure out what communication looks like through introversion, so all parties are served. My favorite memories are the times we’d skip school, go down Georgetown, sit on the bridge at the harbor and sing loud (and wrong) Mary J. Blige’s whole discography. Who hurt us? 

 

I appreciated how she was adamant about doing what she had to do to get to my undergraduate graduation in Chicago. I still remember the proud crocodile tears I cried when she walked across the stage at her graduate school graduation. Allycia was the brainchild behind the birth of my production company, SoulFLY Theatre Society. Our first show together was Vagina Monologues. We got into a disagreement mainly because neither one of us knew what we were doing. However, cultivating art together is such a healing process that can't ever be broken, and I strongly believe birthing SoulFLY proved our friendship could withstand anything. 

 

As we grew older, we were separated by states and now coasts. We've had whole lives, loves, careers, and endeavors but we never lost our connection. Today we check in sporadically and unpack everything from politics, life struggles, spiritual inquiries, reckless human acts, and whatever we are watching on television. Looking at my phone and seeing her name pop up brings me so much joy in a world orchestrating to steal it.

In this newest season my Allycia is now a wife! The pandemic put a wrench in her original ceremony plans but I believe she was gifted back the wedding she truly wanted. It was a breathtakingly beautiful intimate oasis where the love was felt amongst all in attendance. As my friend walked down the aisle, I felt a lump in my throat. All the memories flashed before my eyes and I wept, yes, like Jesus. I hope to get to soak up her husband, André’s, energy more but upon meeting him I can tell he is a kindred spirit. I think as a purse carrier I’m so used to a lot of my friend’s significant others seeing my shell but not necessarily me. André is different because he seemed to intentionally want to know Cynthia. I like him a lot, and Allycia knows that the Gemini in me doesn't like many humans (lol). I trust and believe he will cherish my friend’s heart and woosah through her “isms.” That is so important to me, because she is truly a precious gem who is worthy of love, respect, care, and support and I am so happy she has found the one who has vowed to honor that commitment.

Gone are the days of Allycia and I traipsing around DC, me going down Georgetown and posting up on the couch at Platypus while she worked, listening to the stories that went into her secret box, eating together whatever my Daddy cooked at the dining room table, and being carefree Black girls. Our evolution from girls to women has been nothing short of amazing. Having had the privilege of growing up with and sharing many moments of it all with Allycia is something I will always cherish. I’m excited to witness the next chapters of her life, cultivate new memories, and continue to support my friend with whatever she needs on her journey.

 

I’m so happy for you, Ly and in awe of the woman you've become. 

I love you whole in every season.

 

Congratulations Mrs. Allycia Atania!

To the Black Millennial Parent/Guardian: Let's Raise A Healed Generation

One thing I have been actively working to do is not transfer my traumas onto people close to me. It’s a constant uphill battle because even through healing there are scars that affect how you move in the world. I think it is crucial for me as an educator and a godmother who is actively helping to raise my oldest goddaughter, to be well enough to manage triggers internally and externally, and to communicate when I am not ok. I am not perfect but have gotten so much better at this. 

My oldest goddaughter, Ladybug, came to live with me full time when she started 3rd grade. I didn’t know what the hell I was doing so we were actually figuring out this new arrangement together. I was used to being an "award winning god mommy." I'd pick her up almost every weekend, we'd have epic sleepovers, we'd go shopping, go on trips, plan fun activities, and even became Michelin-star foodies trying out the top restaurants around the city. My other two god kids live out of state but when I fly in to see them I  bring that same "award winning god mommy" energy. I always come bearing gifts and ready for a fun time. It's the perfect situation! But see, that's technically not all a god parent is supposed to do. Our responsibility should be to step up as a support when the child's parent(s) cannot for whatever reason. Ladybug moved in because I decided to support her and her Mom in that season with what we all thought they needed. When Ladybug moved in I had to transition quickly into what I call "quasi-god mommy." I had to become a disciplinarian, a tight scheduler, a routine builder, an investigator, an education advocator, and a clear decision maker.  I didn’t like "quasi-god mommy" at all. I can't imagine Ladybug did either but she adjusted. "Quasi-god mommy" was all work no play. "Award winning god mommy" is more my style. I liked who I was when I was her. 

I learned a lot about myself and Ladybug during those years. I explicitly saw my triggers surface a lot. Triggers that I tend to think magically disappear. Although, I am currently looking for a new therapist, my past journey with therapy has helped me to process and synthesize my triggers and their origins. In undergrad, I started to periodically have panic attacks not having enough knowledge about them to identify that that's what they were. In 2015, I would have panic attacks so frequently that I dragged myself to my primary care physician begging for help. Of course doctors want to drop antidepressants in your system faster than Jamaica's Women's Olympic Track Team. I didn’t want to go down that path. I have since talked to a lot of people who are grateful for their prescribed antidepressant options and I am grateful to be a bit more educated about them. Seeing my apprehensiveness about them however, my doctor introduced me to  DC’s Medical Cannabis Program. It has definitely changed my life. I was brought up heavy in church so cannabis was a "no-no" throughout my life. As I’ve taken classes and learned more about the health benefits and of the cannabis plant I realize it is such a powerful flower that nature has gifted us. My panic attacks these days are few and far between thanks to finding what works for me. It's important as we begin doing the work to raise a healed generation that we educate ourselves on what is ailing us, dive into the science behind it, and really research the options we have to help us beyond therapy, prayer, and/or home remedies. Over 7 million African Americans in the U.S. alone have reportedly suffered from some sort of mental illness. Of the different types of mental illnesses, anxiety and depression has become an endemic in the Black community however, it doesn't have to stay that way.

I think it’s important to be open and honest on this here blog of mine. Sharing is indeed caring. I've learned so much from shared experiences but I would not have been able to learn had people not opened up and shared their stories with me. So here we go with my introverted ass sharing with you my dear reader. 

Let’s talk triggers and perhaps their sources, shall we?

I think for me, it has been so important to identify the triggers first and then deep dive into why these triggers exist? Circling back to my goddaughter and our relationship, I often find myself triggered when her extroverted brain is activated and she’s talking to any and everybody in social settings. My biggest fear is something happening to her especially while in my care. I have developed an unwavering protect at all cost mentality which can translate as being overprotective, especially as she gets older. 

Why is this? 

What is the source of this particular trigger? 

Aside from society's blatant disregard for Black women and girls, a lot of the reasons for this trigger stems from childhood. As a child, I hardly ever was away from my parents. I spent most of my time with both my mom and dad having a semi sheltered childhood. However, when I was released from their care for longer periods of time like for summer camp or a couple weeks at my grandmother’s house, things happened to me that I identify as traumatic experiences. Because of this I protected myself through introversion. The exact opposite of my goddaughter. My trauma response when she's freely maneuvering through social settings is to attempt to prevent the things that happened to me from happening to her. I’m talking at all cost. I do not play about it. Sometimes I catch her looking at me with sheer confusion in her eyes when I’m going off on a tangent about "not talking to random people" or "no, you can’t go over so-and-so’s house." It’s tough and I'm sure many of you out there can relate with your own personal story.

A strategy I have begun to use is intentional and transparent communication with Ladybug. I calmly talk to her one on one the way I want her to communicate with me when she is triggered or has a problem she is struggling with. This communication style includes full transparency because even if she may not fully relate to or agree with what I am saying, her basic human instincts, deeper thinking, and inquiry have started to all work together and we can have healthy and honest dialogue. An example of this type of conversation happened during her new found usage/abuse of her technology devices. I hate how technology has imprisoned the imaginations of children. However, we are raising technologically savvy kids in this generation who are innovative and learn new ways to use technology quickly. And y'all that have quarantine babies, those whippersnappers come out the cooter cat sending emails, creating Google Docs, and concatenating Excel spreadsheets, all while watching Cocomelon on repeat. With heavy technology usage comes the danger component when children are utilizing social media, playing online video games and engaging with people in cyberspace that they do not know. Ladybug was legit talking to random people online while playing games like Roblox, or exploring apps like TikTok and Snapchat. We don't live in a world where adults are mentally sane and leave children alone. There are whole organized business models that are thriving solely on trafficking children. Our children are not safe with using the internet and cell phones without consistent adult supervision. Children are little humans who have limited life experience and live in their personal bubble of a world. They can't possibly begin to grasp the severity of their interactions on the interwebs. As the adults in their lives, we must actively teach them how to use the internet and share with them the consequences that could come if the internet is used inappropriately. If it was up to me, I would prefer Ladybug not have any devices or be able to watch television. I saw how well she did in school when the TV was no longer an option for her. We are not raising the same kids our parents and grandparents raised. We may have to pull a few things from a different toolkit to serve this generation. Those hard conversations we think we should wait to have when children become teenagers we might actually have to have early on. I talked to Ladybug about just how dangerous the misuse of her devices was. I shared stories with her about missing children specifically Black and Hispanic girls. We even read a few articles. We talked about the effects that violating a person's trust, especially those who love you, can gravely impact the relationship. I emphasized how important it is for us in our god mommy/goddaughter relationship that we are able to trust each other. This conversation went on for a few days. She still hasn't gotten privilege to use her laptop and its been months. She does have her cellphone so she can get in contact with her family and me whenever needed. Do I think she retained that week long conversation? Probably not. But some of it she will remember and I often remind myself that the work is ongoing. I have to continue to have open communication with her about these things even not just when she's made a mistake. I believe that when she no longer has me in her ear she is able to tap into discernment and utilize her ever growing decision making skills to make good choices. Building independence is so important especially for a child like her. None of this could have happened had I not done the necessary work to help her clear her load while unpacking and releasing mine. I am finding ways to share with her that I too am human and make mistakes, that I don't have it all figured out but I love myself enough to protect myself by making choices that bring good to my life and not harm. I love myself enough to heal myself so that I am able to love her whole.

I share all of this hoping to empower all Black Millennial parents and guardians in this season to intentionally raise a healed generation who is empathetic, and advocates for themselves and each other. It's vital and in fact crucial to sustaining the Black community in a world that benefits from dead Black and brown bodies. This can’t happen if we are not doing our own healing work. Our parents, grandparents, great grandparents did not necessarily have the luxury and or know how to do this work. Blaming them or waiting for the apology you'll never get serves no one. We got next! We've been gifted this responsibility because those who came before us cleared a manmade cataclysmic path that still haunts us but should not define us. It's our responsibility to preserve our vast generational history, utilize generational practices that worked best, analyze and learn from the generational patterns that stifled us, plan ways to improve the generational practices that failed us and put into action impactful change that our children and generations to come will benefit from. 

It’s a lot I know, but "heavy is the head that wears the crown."

Imagine if we carry with us the generational structure of collaborative work through the age old adage "it takes a village." Imagine if our village is comprised of a myriad of great minds who are continuously working on our healing while joining together to raise healed generations to come. 

We’d be unstoppable. 

We actually already are.

Back 2 School: Contently Homeless (Classroom-less)

"Double Dutch" by Phyllis Stephens

I'm entering a new school year post quarantine and teaching virtually. As an artist who teaches, there's lots of anxiety surrounding teaching in person again as I’m sure it is for many educators, parents, and students. The school where I am currently employed has taken all the precautionary steps to avoid the spread of the virus by following the CDC guidelines required for schools. As a result, they've arranged to have smaller class sizes and hired more teachers. I along with the other Arts teachers no longer have classrooms in order to accommodate the extra general ed teachers. This year arts teachers will be going room to room teaching our content instead of students coming to our spaces. This form of arts education in schools isn’t uncommon. I know lots of arts teachers whose supplies are stored on a cart and they travel around the school building doing their best to provide their students with high quality artistic experiences. I commend these arts educators who have never had the luxury of a classroom.

I have been fortunate enough to work in my current school for almost 10 years now with a beautiful space for children to explore who they are through Theater. This space was sacred, full of color, large windows, and air. A spacious hideaway where imaginations came out to play, courage weaned, human connections were nourished, and I witnessed so many children blossom into confident orators and performers. That space is now infiltrated with 3 ft distant independent student tables and chairs. The colorful ABC Feelings rug is gone. The areas where the comfy Yogibo nooks used to lay are linoleum bare. 

I know you might have tons of questions after reading that. I've been asked for weeks now, "how do you feel not having a classroom this year?"

To which my response was, "Ehhh..." allowing people to create the answer themselves. You know people love to make shit up about folks anyway.

Honestly, it took awhile to fully wrap my head around my feelings because I was honestly void.

How do I feel being without a space I once walked barefoot in with sage and said my prayers in the dark before the day started? 

How do I feel not being in the space where I did some of my most profound teaching? 

Ironically, I feel contently homeless (classroom-less). There are actually real homeless people who are content with being homeless. It's a thing. The content I feel however, comes from the pure joy I regained during the 18 months of quarantining. I needed that time to get reconnected to what brings me the utmost joy. It's easy to get wrapped up in the 9-5 of things, while your dreams take a back burner in order to meet the requirements of what pays the bills. I knew week one of quarantine that things would never go back to how they used to be. I actually don't want them to.

My mother, who is also a teacher, often reminds me that teaching is calling. A divine calling. Whether one wants to admit it or not. A person can get all the collegiate training and professional development their heart desires, but when you don’t have the calling its evident. I recognize my calling to serve children and to teach even through my reluctance. I’ve taught performing arts in the Shenandoah Mountains, in a basement, in a park, in a church, on Zoom, and in a classroom. With each experience I was able to use my gifts to engage students and help them identify their unique gifts. So, being classroom-less isn’t new for me and my love for theater and children will shine in any space. I strongly believe that spaces and human value is miniscule compared to the divine calling over my life. I am grateful that I could easily tap into the bigger picture during this season with the We Do Not Care TikTok videos playing on repeat in my head. 

I know I could go into how historically the arts and artists are viewed in education which is why not having a classroom and many other ridiculous things that happen to arts programming occurs, but that is another blog for another day. Today, I just want to uplift the importance of detaching your Gorilla Glue appurtenance from things and people. Sometimes we attach ourselves to things and people that do not serve us or who don't align with who we want to be in the world. I loved my classroom, but it does not serve me in any way. Especially after the hellish year and a half we have all been through. I am not any less of a great teacher without it and it doesn’t aide in propelling me to reach my dreams. It’s a space. Transferable. I also recognize that the majority of people at my job don’t care about me as person. I’m disposable to them and the organization. Even the children who I become connected to graduate and go on to live their lives. So, I have made myself, my life, and my personal and social spaces the priority. You too, friend. Prioritize yourself and your life. Curate the life you want while being intentionally inclusive of every ounce of whatever you may need. Detach from the external and nurture the internal so that who you are and the gifts you share dwells in a wholesome and pure place. 

Girls Trip to New Orleans: This Time It Was Spiritual

Hot on Bourbon St.

New Orleans is by far one of my favorite cities. Its richness in culture, cuisine, and the Arts is unmatched. No other city in the world like it. So, when the talks started that there was going to be a trip with a group of people I thoroughly enjoy being around, I was all in! Things happen, plans changed, and the trip to NOLA dwindled down to four of us. Flights and hotel were booked and we took off on a summer adventure!

New Orleans in the summer ain’t for the weak baby. Hot is an understatement. But the city never misses a beat no matter the weather. Let me just say a little bit about the extraordinary ladies I traveled with:

KENN

• all charisma 
• the life of the party 
• a great Mom 
• loyal
• supportive
• a consummate cheerleader
• numbers are a language she speaks fluently
• lowkey mixologist
• dancing queen 
• down for the get down

Kenn inspires me to see my gifts in ways that I often do not.

KIA

• reminds me of safety
• a calm spirit 
• a sacred vessel of light
• warm 
• welcoming
• her hugs bring peace
• a great Mom
• as sweet as the treats she uses her culinary gifts to make
• a nurturer
• the anchor within a support system

Kia inspires me to stand strong in peace.

TIFF

• my closie
• a confidant
• a deep thinker
• an analyzer
• a problem solver
• a dream chaser
• Chef-Girl-R-Tiff
• solo dolo
• a great Mom
• a compassionate wife

Tiff inspires me to unmute in spite of introversion. 

Needless to say, I was surrounded by so much love from these 3 women in the best city in the world. It was amazing.

We did all the usual things NOLA tourists do. We drank, ate, partied on Bourbon, the usual. However, this time the trip was so much different than the typical shenanigans I got into in my early 30s. This time the city gifted me with a newfound life momentum to carry with me home. 

I arrived to the city a day before the ladies. When Tiff arrived the morning after I was on a phone interview. She too loves the city so much so she used that time to get reacclimated to the French Quarter streets. There’s so much mystery down a cobble stoned French Quarter street. She came across a Black owned sanctuary shop called Selah. Selah is full of handcrafted aromatic herbs and resins as well as all of the crystals and guides one might need to support their spiritual journey. When I finally linked up with Tiff she was raving about Selah and how she was drawn in because she could smell its power from the street. She also talked about her experience with the woman who owned the shop. The woman has medium gifts and spoke to Tiff about her life through divine downloads of energy and visions. 

This trip would become a spiritual journey for all of us really quickly.

Kenn and Kia arrived later that night and we had fun on Bourbon. 

The next day after a bomb breakfast and drinks overflowing at The Ruby Slipper Café, Tiff took us to Selah to experience what she had on the day before. By the time we walked through 96 degree weather to get there I was exhausted and mentally checked out. Kenn had brought us each personal fans, so I sat down on an antique mahogany bench that was placed strategically under a palm plant next to a small floor alter with a lit white candle, incense, sage and other relics. I watched as my friends looked around the shop. Tiff occasionally brought handmade sage blends over for me to smell. Kenn was in deep connection and conversation with the shop owner which warmed my heart. I closed my eyes briefly to see if I was as hot inside as I was outside. Don’t judge me it’s a thing I do. Once the ladies finished their purchases they came over in the section I was in probably gearing up to motivate me to get up off that bench as they had to do throughout the entire trip. Tiff sat next to me and introduced me to the shop owner as her fellow introvert Gemini friend. 

I’d say in this moment is where I felt a shift. A cool breeze beyond the hand held fan Kenn gave me began flowing through the area I was sitting in. The woman herself began sweating as she started speaking visions she saw about me and my life. 

Get back in nature.

You are a presence.

You step back and allow others to shine but you take up space.

You don't judge.

You let others be.

Heal your blood so you can heal us. 

I see you in white, barefoot, with a tall stick in your hand, and people are surrounding you for healing.

Don’t let everyone into your sacred space. 

Light a white candle for your Dad everyday.

I see greatness in you.

Tiff began balling, Kenn followed and Kia went and grabbed the tissues. I teared up not really knowing how to process this information. Honestly, it was a bit frightening. I realize Tiff’s tears came from the place where she has seen these very things in me. Kenn too. Admittedly, it's not something I saw in myself or even think about necessarily. However, I’m adamant that I must live my life in empathy and love especially the older I get. I’ve experienced so many women, women way older than me even, who are the opposite and I made a promise to myself that I would do the work to never become that type of woman. Kia grabbed the white candles for me with the quickness and said she would light one too with me. The shop owner encouraged us to visit The Tree of Life before leaving New Orleans. She pointed to me saying, “especially you. Sit under it. Get reconnected with nature.” The shop owner hugged me tight for awhile before we left. We left the shop with our hearts full. Kenn even said she didn’t feel the liquor buzz from breakfast anymore. 

We did a little shopping at the French Market, got snowballs, toasted to life over Casamigos shots, Kia and Kenn had Tarot card readings and we all went to see The Tree of Life.

The Tree of Life experience is a NOLA gem. It reminded Kenn of the tree from Eve’s Bayou. It’s nestled at the center of Audubon Park. It’s limbs tower over the grassy land and bow to the sun. Adorned with Louisiana Spanish Moss its 400 year old presence aesthetically takes up space. Without it the park would be a bare lifeless place. It protected us from the heat, providing a cool, relaxing place to rest. This tree was a visual representation of what the shop owner saw in me. I felt grounded under her limbs. Comforted leaning on her trunk. I didn’t want to leave. I knew the shop owner had shared foreseen truths with me. I needed to figure out how to align myself with the understanding of who I am with who I’m meant to be. I implore you if you've gotten this far on my blog post to visit Selah and The Tree of Life. Both unforgettable places.

A photo I took of Kia under The Tree of Life

Another cherished moment on our trip for me was the time we spent with Kenn’s family as they celebrated her cousin’s graduation from college. I was excited to see a different part of New Orleans beyond downtown. We joined Kenn’s family on the West Bank.  It was a Black family backyard cookout which is always a vibe. A vibe I definitely miss. We sat down at the table with Kenn’s uncle and ‘nem. Talked, laughed, ate Swai fried with love and drizzled with Crystals Hot Sauce fresh out the grease till way past sunset. Uncle called me, Kia, Kenn and Tiff “DC, Maryland, Virginia, and Philly” based on where we lived and are from. He told the best Uncle stories and made sure we were taken care of.

We had planned after the cookout to go see Kelly Price at Club 7140. We told Uncle about our plan and well, that opened up a can of worms. “7140? On the eaaaaast?” He told us how dangerous it was on that side of town, not to stop and get gas, and to be careful. He occasionally would call other people over to the table and ask them had they been to 7140 and they’d all holler, “on the eaaaast?” They all expressed the same sentiments and precautionary tales as Uncle. It didn’t matter though because we spent so much time soaking up the laughter, southern hospitality, and kindred spirit that we missed the window to get back to the hotel to change for the concert. The moment you realize that your friendship has merged itself with the love of family that is a feeling I never want to lose.

We ended our trip talking, laughing, and standing firmly in our bond as framily. 

Out of all the times I’ve been to New Orleans this trip by far is the one I will cherish the most.

Under The Sunset Series: Azarri (& the B. Crew)

Painting by: Amani Lewis

Friday’s summer nights stand alone thought Azarri as she looked in the mirror. 

She never planned out her outfits but always got dressed like she was under assignment. There were a few potential late night propositions in her texts. Ignoring the text messages gave her Leo ego the full body stroke it needed.

Her style was a vibe though. 

Eclectically symmetric. 

It was a slightly see-through bandeau top, with paper bag waist tribal print gaucho pants, paired with custom graffiti Vans kind of evening. She adorned her neck with Ankara balls and chains. She threw her blonde locs up into a messy ponytail, grabbed her jacket, skateboard and keys. She looked at herself in the mirror by the front door for a final check in, and headed out the door rubbing her dark purple matte lips together.

Before she hit the corner...

“Amber Alert! Amber Alert!” Drunk Eddie yelled when he saw her. Every time he saw her. 

“Each day through my window,” he sang, “I watch her as she passes byyyy." 

Azarri smirked and rolled her eyes simultaneously.

“Won’t you bring Eddie a little somethin' somethin' when you come back out beautiful Zarri?” Drunk Eddie asked. 

"I'll see what I can do," Azarri replied. They both knew she'd bring him a 5th of Jameson out like she did every Friday.

The corner store was packed with its usual hood rich suspects. Mr. Farmer stood at the counter meticulously filling out his lottery ticket like he was filing important paperwork. 

"Azzari Renaye Brinkley!" Mr. Farmer was the only one around the way to call her by her full name. She let him cook because he was old, harmless, and used to "tickle her grandmother's feathers."

"Give me two numbers, any numbers" he said.

 “94 and 7” Azarri said without hesitancy. She had the number 94 tattooed on the back of her left shoulder and she had 7 piercings. These numbers were more than just numbers to her.

"Good numbers, good numbers" he smiled his denture-less smile and eagerly wrote them down.

Azarri went to the cooler and grabbed a water.  When she came back to the counter, Saalim had already pulled her White Grape Swishers and a 5th of Jameson from behind the counter. 

"Let me get a lighter too."

"What color?"

"Purple."

She looked through the big tub of Now & Laters and pulled out 2 banana flavored packs.

"$24.50, I give you lighter free."

"Thanks Saalim, see you next week." 

"Bye Mr. Farmer."

"Bye Baby."

“Amber Aler-" Drunk Eddie couldn’t get it out before Azarri handed him the Jameson bottle. He popped it open, leaned back against the bricks and took a long gulp. Azarri kept walking down the street.

She loved Brooklyn on Fridays in the summer. Even though the city was changing, she was grateful that some of the same people still lived on her block from when she moved in with her grandmother in '94.

She got a text, it read:
We under the bridge.

She popped a Now & Later in her mouth, hopped on her skateboard and took off. Skating was her thing. In high school she started an all girls skate crew, Bitches Ridin' Concrete Waves, or B. Crew for short. The group held on strong until senior year when it kind of disintegrated, like most things do senior year in high school. Azarri still had her skateboard garnished with B. Crew stickers. She even had her grandmother sew B. Crew patches on her jacket in high school which she still wore till this day. The rest of her crew, Blake, Tanisha, Chrome, and Mandy had real grown-up lives and skateboarding wasn’t a part of it. They still got together every other Friday under the Kosciuszko Bridge to watch the sunset. 

“Be an angel and say your prayers at sunset so God can bless your demon time at dusk.” Blake always said.

She slid up to the spot just as Mandy was climbing up on the hood of Blake’s Dodge Cutlass and started yelling, “Happy Friday Earthlings! We androids hate it here!”

“Speak for yourself, Mandy!” Azarri said as she approached her friends. 

"I know you better get down off my car!" Blake commanded.

"Ain't nobody gonna hurt this old ass spaceship!" Mandy rebutted.

They all surrounded Azarri and gave her their B. Crew hug and secret handshake. 

“The only reason you think you're an android is because you moved all the way to Long Island.” Azarri teased.

“Touché my nigga, touché. But at least I ain’t out here smelling like a Hotep Banana Split!" Mandy always came with a comeback.

They all laughed.

"It’s the Now & Laters."

"Oh we know, and whatever oil you bought from the oil man on the R train." Chrome chimed in. 

"You an android because who the hell eats banana Now & Laters? Gimmie one!" Mandy added.

"You got the Swishers?" Blake changes the subject on a mission.

"Yep!" Azarri hands them to Blake. 

"White Grape! That’s my dawg."

Blake takes the Swishers and gets in her car.

Azarri leans on the car with Tanisha and Chrome while Mandy attempts to ride Azarri's skateboard laying on her belly.

"Weeeee" Mandy squealed.

"She childish," Chrome said with a side eye.

The sun began shifting. 

The sky turned burnt orange with faint streaks of yellow, blue, and purple.

“Oh this some Arabian Nights shit!” Mandy took out her phone to capture the moment.

“Don’t forget to say your prayers!” Blake shouted from the car window.

Blake turned up the Gospel music in her car.

“Here she go with her Bishop Desmond Tutu bullshit.” Tanisha said.

They all laughed. 

Except for Azarri. She instead closed her eyes and began praying internally. 

“God, it’s me Azarri…Zarri for short. You knew that. Umm…I need you God. Please tell me what to do."

"Zarri is you praying for real?" Mandy asked.

Azarri quickly opened her eyes.

"Nah just thinking."

They all looked at her skeptically.

Blake passed a blunt to Chrome out the window. 

They all smoked and laughed. 

Blake sang along to Marvin Sapp's, Never Would Have Made It, and leaned back in her car seat.

"Blake you're high my guy!" Chrome laughed.

"I'm closer to God when I'm high sis." Blake explained..

Azarri leaned back on the hood of the car and looked up at the sky. 

She closed her eyes.

“God…me again. I’m scared. I’m really scared.”

"Zarri, don’t let the Kush push you to sleep. Fight the temptation. You’re a conqueror beloved.” Blake said.

They all laughed.

Except Azarri. She opened her eyes and sat up.

“I’m pregnant ya’ll and I’m scared. I can't believe I finally said that out loud.”

Wait. What? By who? Blake gets out of the car.

"I’m gonna be an auntie? Yes! Bitch let me Google matching outfits for me and my nephew! Yaaasss!" Mandy takes out her phone and starts her Google search.

Dawg, you definitely shouldn’t be smoking pregnant! Tanisha criticizes.

"Or skating!" Chrome adds.

"Did you hear me Zarri?" Blake asks, "Who is the guy?"

"Eduardo." Azarri confesses.

DRUNK EDDIE?!?!? They yelled.

"Yea, girl you definitely need to pray!" Mandy always came with a comeback.

Bday Reflections III: 38 - The Midas Year

It’s the day before my 38th birthday! I’m currently on the train heading to NYC to bring in my birthday with a few of my friends. I feel like 37 went by so fast it’s actually quite scary. I spent the year in quarantine like most people but when I did emerge from the house I experienced memories that will last for a lifetime. I was a bridesmaid in my closie Ashy’s wedding, spent a week with my youngest Goddaughter in Chicago, traveled to Mexico with my Mommy, and most recently help throw an epic baby shower for Ashy! Creatively I kept pushing by writing and curating new media content. I also am making progress on the documentary I’m working on. I liked year 37 in all of its solitude due to the pandemic. 

As I transition into year 38, I’m calling this The Midas Year. This term was prophesied over my life by my Jam. “This is gonna be your Midas year,” she said. Do you guys know the story of King Midas? Well, you know I love a good story, chile.  

King Midas is one of the popular kings in Greek Mythology. Because of King Midas’s nature of kindness and hospitality, Dionysus offered him one wish. Midas wished that whatever he touched be turned into gold. The wish was granted. Now, seemingly that’s cool right? Thing is Midas ain’t think that thing through, chile. Men, boy I tell ya! Everything and I do mean everything he touched turned to gold. He accidentally killed his daughter Zoë because when he touched her she turned to dead gold. He couldn’t touch his food because it too would turn to gold. Midas ended up dying of starvation. 

In year 38 I’m taking this centuries old mythological legend and perfecting it. Call me, Queen Midas. This time I’ll be placing God at the center in affirmation that everything I touch WILL turn to gold. Plain and simple, I will live my life at its purest, most authentic, and highest quality state. I declare and decree that whatever I desire in this year WILL happen in this year and will happen in abundance. 

That new job I want, I will get and I will be the best woman for the job. - GOLD

My prayers for financial wealth, wellness and wisdom for me and all generations of my family will be in motion this year. - GOLD

My mental and physical health will continue to blossom this year. - GOLD

That business I want to start will get started this year. - GOLD

The projects I want to complete will get completed this year. - GOLD

All my relationships will continue to bring support, love, and joy this year. - GOLD

Who I am and want to be as a creative in the world will manifest itself this year. - GOLD

Because I’ve been blessed with the Midas touch. 

Year 38, WILL be The Midas Year!

Bday Reflections II: Advocating for Myself

MUA: Danni Sellers

"Why do we do that? "We don't speak up when we don't like it. We just say Mmmhmm, uh huh, in a high pitched tone. I know the tone."  - Danni

I recently had a photo shoot with my friend, Ayanah George, I've linked her work for your viewing and booking pleasure. She's the absolute best. The shoot was under the creative direction of beauty and lifestyle guru, Ajahmure Clovis of Ajahmure Beauty. I've also linked her business for your perusing and purchasing pleasure. Her products need to be added to your beauty regimens. Ajahmure who I affectionately call Jam scheduled makeup for the shoot with her friend Danni of Face Value Artistry. Danni is a whole vibe, a phenomenal makeup artist, and a forward thinking stylist. Now, listen ya'll I just dropped 3 links to 3 amazing Black women entrepreneurs. 3 sacred gems. 

Don't say I ain't never give you nothing! 😂

I was excited about this shoot because its almost my birthday and getting all dolled up to take professional pictures is a perfect gift. Also, the world hates FAT dark skinned women and committing to a shoot that reveals who I aesthetically am to the world is a form of activism. I definitely feel like I'm advocating for my place and the place of women who look like me when I commit to doing any project that will be shared with the general public. 

Confession: At almost 38 years old, advocating for myself is a whole struggle. I'm talking anxiety triggering.

When Danni gave me the mirror and I looked at the work she had done the knots in my stomach subsided. I am always nervous sitting in anybody's chair that does my makeup or hair because I don't know if I'm going to end up looking like a catastrophe or not. Danni sensed that I think. We started discussing why we don't say anything when we don't like our hair, nails, makeup etc. It was nice to hear I wasn't the only one who struggles with this. I think thats why I surround myself with women like Jam who will say what needs to be said no matter who or what the situation is.

For me, its not just beauty clinicians work I don't speak up about. At my closie Ashley's baby shower I was supposed to talk to a vendor about being late and negotiating the hired hours and/or payment. I froze. Heart was rat-ta-tat-tatting. I had to send my closie, Tiff, over to talk the man, chile. 

Sending a meal back at a restaurant...struggle.

Advocating for myself at work...struggle.

Following up on a job application...struggle.

Discussing issues with my family...struggle.

But let me have to advocate for someone else, or go to bat for someone else I am all in! Why?

It's actually gotten worse over the years and spending a year in quarantine I think has heightened it.

During this new year of life I am committing myself to advocating for myself. I know this is going to be a challenge but I believe this will change the trajectory of my life moving forward. When people say they get taken advantage of because they don't speak up or set boundaries for themselves, I'm a living witness that they aren't lying. 

Is this a struggle for you to?

Let's work on this together.

Bday Reflections I: The Time Has Come the Walrus Said

In undergrad I had an 8:00 AM class. Now, you know 8:00 AM classes in college are always so hard to get to especially if you’ve been out partying the night before. The professor of this class would arrive however, at 8:15 AM. He was always disheveled carrying a whole lot of unnecessary things in his hands, except the Venti Starbucks coffee cup. That coffee, was definitely an essential item to be carrying. The class would generally arrive before he did. If you were later than he was, he wouldn’t let you in class.

He’d enter the room and wouldn’t speak. He’d walk in, brush past us, leaving a scent of amber musk, menthol, and coffee in the air. He’d put his stuff down on the desk with his back facing the class and take what seemingly was the longest sip of his coffee. Savoring it. I always wondered what his Starbucks order was? You can tell a lot about a person based on their Starbucks order. After he was done, he cleared his throat as if he was starting his internal engine. He’d then turn around and say to the class, 

“The time has come the Walrus said...” 

This is a line from the peculiar poem The Walrus and the Carpenter by Lewis Carroll. In fact, Tweedledum and Tweedledee recite the poem to Alice in the Through the Looking Glass novel. The poem tells the story of the complacent Walrus and a featherbrained Carpenter who trick a group of oysters to come on a walk with them only to eat them. Throughout my scholastic journey I’ve encountered this poem quite a bit actually. Lots of acting teachers use it as a tongue twister during speech and voice warm ups. But this was a Peace Studies course. Yes, I’d argue I went to one of the best liberal arts colleges in the world. Peace Studies? Please and thank you! I enjoyed this class and even managed to secure an A. Mind you, this was in the middle of a Chicago winter where staying in bed at 8 AM instead of bearing the cold would've been highly preferred. But I pushed through the grueling Lake Michigan winds to sit in class and talk about the concept of peace in a world that is not peaceful.

I understood later on that the professor would arrive late because he knew 8:00 AM was hard for students. So, he gave us a 15 minute grace period to get there. Actually, more like 25 because by the time he finished sipping his coffee and revved up his internal engine with his back to the class, students were able to sneak in before he started.

I finished the class however, having no clarity as to why he would start each class by saying, “the time has come the walrus said...”

 

The entire line in the poem reads:

 

The time has come the walrus said

To talk of many things

Of shoes and ships and sealing wax

Of cabbages and kings

Of why the sea is boiling hot

and weather pigs have wings

 

The Walrus says this to the oysters right before they realize they are going to be eaten. This poem is chaotic lunacy. The sun and the moon are shining at the same time, oysters can walk and wear shoes, and not to mention a talking Walrus is friends with a human. The real absurdity of it all however, is that 20 years later and 3 days before my 38th birthday I am up at 8:00 AM thinking about why my Peace Studies professor started each lesson with that quote? Welcome to my anxious brain.

Today, 20 years later and 3 days before my 38th birthday, I think I get it. The absurdities in this world are plentiful just like this poem. But the action word is “talk.” Communication is by far the most important yet hardest things for people to master. I know firsthand, that’s why I started blogging. I often suck at verbalizing how I feel when talking. Writing is my best form of communication. My comfort zone. Conversations can be hard and sometimes full of tension and discord. I opt out of that more than not and when I finally do speak, I’m exploding because I’ve held it in for so long. I recognize the choice to table hard conversations and letting sentiments fester is self-inflicted abuse that I must stop.

 

The time has come to talk of many things.

 

My professor was right.

 

You can’t grow, learn, change, heal, and be at peace if you don’t talk about the absurdities ailing you. 

 

During this new year around the sun, I am committing myself to working on improving my verbal communication. Coming out of my comfort zone of just writing about it and transitioning into also talking about it.

You with me?

 

Let’s do it together!