Born A Statistic. Murdered A Quota. Remembered A Hashtag. Never Been A Human.

Photo Credit: NYTimes.com

I get emotionally invested in the cases of Black men, women, and children who are unjustly murdered by police. I've seen a lot of posts and articles on the importance of "checking out" during these traumatic reoccurrences and taking care of oneself but I can't seem to "check out." I'm haunted everyday by Eric Garner's plea for a breath of life. 

This week's back to back murders (the ones that made it to social media) of Alton Sterling and Philandro Castile have triggered my unrelenting emotional investment as I continuously search for answers, strategies when approached by police, and even some sort of recompense and there is nothing. There is never anything.

There are no answers. 

There are no strategies for Black or brown people to use when approached by police.

There is never any recompense. 

There is never any justice.

I've watched the videos of Alton and Philandro's murder over and over hoping that I see something, anything that is tangible help for Black and brown people in America.

Yesterday, I did however notice something.

Diamond "Lavish" Reynolds, the girlfriend of Philandro Castile fearlessly streamed live on Facebook right after Philadro was shot. While watching the video see Diamond feverishly trying to explain what happened, what street they were on and asking people to come and give her a ride. Later she mentioned she did all of this with 10% battery power life left. 

In the midst of Diamond speaking you can also hear very clearly the officer who shot Philandro yelling expletives. The officer was not yelling at Diamond and he was not yelling at Philando who was visibly unconscious. It is clear the officer is yelling at himself. The way many of us might find ourselves doing if we make a careless mistake. 

I have watched all the video footage from every case that has surfaced and this particular video felt a bit different to me. 
Usually the officers caught on camera either search the dead body, harass the individuals who are recording them on their camera phones, talk to each other, or go back to their cars leaving the body laying in the street or sidewalk or grassy knoll to call dispatch. 

The officer who murdered Philando didn't do any of that. 

The officer stood there with his gun drawn, unable to move, shaking, yelling expletives at himself. The expletive was shouted repeatedly with such angst that I went to bed yesterday saying this man must've felt some very human feelings. It's a very humane thing to beat yourself up when you make a mistake. It's a very humane thing to be able to recognize "fuuuuuck" I made a mistake. The angst in his voice, the inability to move, shaking from nervousness, yelling at himself is what I believe any human being should feel when harming another human being. 

I went to bed with the hope and prayer that this sense of humanity would engulf his spirit and by the morning he would come forth and admit that he made an unrepairable mistake, accepts full responsibility, and accepts the repercussions.

Of course without question I woke up today to find no such admittance. Here I was an enraged Black woman still praying that a murderer would tap into his humanity. That's the generational gift (and curse) of the Black woman.

Diamond mentioned in another video post being released from jail that the other officers who came to the scene of the crime comforted the officer who murdered Philando, but left her and her daughter in the back of the police vehicle to deal with their anxieties and terror alone. 

NOTE: There are people who walk the earth with what is called a reprobate mind and are unable to tap into their humane feelings. They are very quickly however, able to put blame on someone else for their actions. They would rather ignore situations than mend situations. They plot and scheme. They are cowardly and unable to stand up and admit they are wrong. They refuse to apologize privately or publicly to those they have wronged. They refuse to admit privately and publicly that they have made a mistake. They befriend and surround people who are in touch with their humanity with the hopes of turning them reprobate as well. All the while being able to sleep at night and get up again and do it the next day. Understand that a person's mind has to be reprobate to act violently and otherwise on their racism.

There are some officers on the police force walking around with a reprobate mind and are fueled by the comfort in knowing that the judicial system was created to protect them. These cases happen over and over again with no indictments and no convictions giving these types of officers subhuman invincibility. 

The officers who put the needs of the officer who murdered Philando first without giving CPR to Philando's lifeless body or tending to the mental needs of a traumatized four year old child and her mother proves that our fight as Black and brown people is not a civil rights fight. 

It is a human rights fight. 

There's no way we can fight for our civil rights if we aren't even considered human. It's common rhetoric to say 'we are treated like animals' but PETA would be all over it if an animal was gunned down. Our lives are not valued as much as animal's lives are.

We are born as statistics.

We are murdered as quotas. 

We are remembered as hashtags.


Never a human.

Fat Fortitude Diaries: What's Failure Anyway?

I've had a very interesting struggle with my weight. I've been a chunky chocolate pretty much since birth and have transitioned in to what is labeled as a morbidly obese adult.

Its crazy how these labels and the way people project their opinions of your weight on you can impact your psyche. 

I've tried all the well known and not so well known diets. I even resulted to having Lap Band surgery 10 years ago.

I found out later that my band was malfunctioning.

Wraps, pills, nutritionists, Atkins, B12 shots, Weight Watchers and the list goes on I've tried them all and failed.

Miserably. 

What's failure anyway?

A lesson.

For the past couple months I am back to altering my eating habits. Making healthier choices.

Becoming one with nosey ass MyFitnessPal. 

In June I stepped out on a sturdy limb and got a new trainer.

Mind you during the course of my fat chronicles I had a trainer. A nice tiny white woman...her name escapes me. Probably Kimmy or something like that. I couldn't really expect her to understand me or my needs or the anxiety I felt walking into a gym and a predominantly white gym on Capital Hill at that. That's probably a blog post all by itself. So I kind of slid on out of there and back to the habits that made me comfortably secluded but not progressing.

Today I have a Black male trainer whom I hate to love.

This man irritates me to the fullest capacity of irritation but I need the challenge.

For the next couple of weeks I am going to write about some of my experiences as a fat Black woman. It is my hope that by releasing some of the internal weight I will have a better chance this time around managing the external weight.

What's the use of maintaining a 1200-1500 calorie diet when Im congested and weighed down by matters internally?

This is my Fat Fortitude.

Internal weight loss.

Happy (almost) Birthday...

Ok this is it. The week of my birthday blog post. I always do a birthday week blog post reflecting on the current year and celebrating the grace GOD has shown me by blessing me with another year of life. This ritual is a must for me, so I am forcing myself (in the midst of a hectic end of the school year schedule, trying to plan SoulFLY events, and meeting application deadlines) to sit down, calm down, and reflect. It puts things in perspective as you embark upon a new year of life.

Here's a baby picture of me. The last time I was at my grandmother's house I took a picture of this picture that she keeps nestled on top of her very large chester drawer and mirror set in her front guest room. I look so happy right? Smiling from ear to hear. Mealnin poppin' and eyes twinkle twinkle little starrin'. My saliva is giving me a glossy lip beat and I am clearly red carpet ready in my good ole Baptist church dedication dress. Something about chocolate skin in white clothing. Those ribbons and barrettes are barely holding on to my inch and a half natural very new growth.

But look closely at the bottom right corner.

There's a hand there.

I never asked whose hand that was because I am pretty sure it's my Mommy's. I could be wrong but I don't think I am.

This picture to me speaks to this year perfectly.

I have laughed. I have cried. I have been excited. I have been disappointed. But no matter the life event (and there will always be many) I looked to the right and my Mommy was right beside me holding me up. She let me go and just be and create and live my dreams but she never let me feel like I was alone.

But it doesn't stop with her.

My family showed up this year for me in a big way.

Mommy was on the right and my brother Andrew was on the left. Making me laugh and getting on my nerves simultaneously but always working on my dream with me.

My aunts have all motivated me this year, showing up, working my shows, buying tickets, reposting my work, and celebrating my accomplishments. Whenever I felt the least bit discouraged I would receive a random message from my aunts that would give me the push I needed.

I have a small but very loyal group of friends/framily who not only support me but motivate me to dream bigger. This year I also made a few new friends who I feel like I have known for a very long time.

This year I watched GOD put together the pieces in my life that were broken and made sure I had a solid support system to help move me to the next level.

To the little girl in the picture I want you to know in this new year of life that:

• The woman you have become...I am fighting for you. 

• You are not alone.

• I won't give up on your dreams.

• I won't deviate from the path towards your purpose. 

• I won't let fear deter me from your promise.

• I will not be afraid to trust and lean on family and friends but I will be confident enough to maneuver through life on my own.

• I will speak positive things in to existence.

• I will lead a life of humility.

• I will continue to support others.

• I will let go of expectation.

• I won't let disappointment hinder fortitude.

Happy (almost) Birthday!

I love you.

To The Isolated

I read a young woman's Facebook status the other day where she reflected on her life today compared to what her life had been like in previous years. "People don't call like they used to..." she wrote. I hit the love button and rallied up some words of encouragement to leave under her post. I kept scrolling and came across another young woman's status that pretty much exclaimed the same frustration with what I like to call the "you-ain't-useful-to-me-no-more syndrome" that so many people are infected with. I composed another few sentences of encouragement, posted it, and kept scrolling through the usual social chaos on my socially non networking sites.

The next day I found myself still thinking about these young women and their posts. I couldn't help but to think about my life as well and how I too find myself in the same situation they shared. I thought about these ladies individually. One is a an amazing writer and the other one is an entrepreneur legitimately running two companies. Both are in their thirties, hard workers, kind, and deep thinkers. We all have so much in common.

So what makes us not worthy of consistency in friendship?

Is there something we have done?

As an adult seemingly it shouldn't hurt you to see friends hanging out without you and you weren't even a factor when the invitations went out. It shouldn't hurt that your phone doesn't ring anymore because you are no longer needed. But unfortunately, it does in fact hurt. Even though adulthood and frequent independent woman catch phrases are used to camouflage basic human emotion, it doesn't make the experience any less painful.

I hate to use words like alienated because it has such a victimizing tone to it. I, along with these two women are actively sustaining our liberation through womanhood. However, as I confront my these thoughts I am always left with alienation being the descriptor. 

But here's the caveat, we have to stop giving other human beings so much of our headspace and access to power they do not posses. Easier said than done I know, but it's necessary. After taking a hard look at my life and everything that has happened so far I strongly believe that the alienation I feel is simply GOD placing me in isolation.

I'm isolated so He can protect me.

I'm isolated so that He can groom me.

I'm isolated so He can prepare me for the great things He has in store for my life.

Yes, in the meantime its going to hurt. I will feel lonely, used, frustrated, infuriated, and disappointed.

But I have never not had what I needed. I may feel lonely but I have never been alone.

Not once has GOD ever stopped blessing me in my isolation.

So in the meantime I will pray in times of despair but remain thankful that He thought enough of me to place me in isolation.

To anyone who may be going through this very same thing. You are not alone. 

Thank God for choosing you to be apart of the chosen few.

To the isolated.

For The Undiscovered Actor

As many of you know I started my own company, SoulFLY Theatre Society, with one of my best friends from high school in 2010. Since the start of this journey I have battled with myself. Sometimes we are our worst critics.

To be honest I was scared.

Starting a company with little know how is frightening. However, I've been blessed to have met some really amazing people along the way that have supported me.

As a Black female businesswoman (wooof that was even a little scary to type) I am trying to create high quality and thought-provoking artistic experiences that provoke social change. It is my hope to liberate the minority voice, specifically the voices of women of color. Doing all of this on a small budget I often feel limited. This is mainly because I believe artists should be compensated well for lending their gifts to public domain.

Far too often the Arts are not considered a viable occupation. Thats why so many artists have to result to working a 9-5 to pay their bills instead of being fully immersed in their creative outlet. An artist is very much a minority in societal workforce norms, which I find extremely odd given the fact that the amount of consumption of artistic products by the world is vast. Whether its the music you are blasting on your drive to work or when you binge watch your favorite web series, everyday all day no matter where you are in the world you benefit from some sort of art form. Those gifted enough to produce these art forms deserve to be treated the same as any other respected profession.


Throughout my journey with SoulFLY I have been honored to work with lots of wonderful people that understand this very thought and yet still agreed to work with me for small stipends and at times even for free. That is a testament to the love a true artist has for their craft. I have encountered lots of talented actors who could and should very well be seen in all major film, television and theatre outlets.  I've been observing what works for both the actor and the director when forging long lasting relationships and have decided to share.

This post is dedicated to the budding actor who is working with smaller theatre companies. Directors your post is coming soon.

Here we go...

ACTORS:

• BE OPEN TO TRYING A SMALL THEATRE COMPANY--Small theatre companies might not be able to offer you a lot of compensation like larger companies but the close knit relationships formed are priceless. You never know what that company will grow into or do so keep your relationship in great standing with that company.

• SUPPORT BEYOND JUST ACTING--The actors I appreciate the most are the ones that stayed after rehearsal to help clean up or manned the lighting booth. The ones who hit me up just to check in or inquire if I need any help with a project they aren't cast in. It shows the company that they aren't just an added line on your resume. By supporting the company in other ways you prove that you believe in it's mission and want to see the vision come to fruition.

• FOLLOW THROUGH--It's easy to lose professionalism when you aren't being paid. I get it. But you should always maintain professionalism. If you commit to a project with a small theater company give your all plus another 100%. Arrive on time, have your lines memorized if not before then by the deadline, be receptive to direction, and apply the direction given to your task.

• DISPOSITION MATTERS--Man, if I could fully verbalize how one nasty attitude can infect an entire project. Don't be that one. Rehearsals, run-throughs, and filming can be long and taxing but maintain a positive demeanor. Always. You may be tired, hungry, sick, sad...persevere positively! A nasty disposition is not one you want to be associated with your name in the theatre/film community. 

We are all in this thing together. The best of the best is coming your way! Have fun and break-a-leg!

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.