Oct8

All we need is us…

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All we need is us…
Kelly Love Jones – For You
(made me go dig this post out of a notebook)

I went to a wedding recently. It was very nice. The bride was stunning and the groom was handsome. It was everything you’d want from a wedding. And I’m sure it almost drove the two of them crazy.


I’m starting to think I don’t need that. I’m starting to think I don’t need any of that at all. Frayed nerves, sore tempers, hectic scheduling, grueling to do list. I know it was worth it to them after the fact and I think people should celebrate however they want to – no hate from me, I’m happy to be a party to that joy. I’m just not sure I need that in my life.


I used to want a lot of things I don’t really think I want anymore. I used to want a stunning engagement ring. But I realized I don’t really wear jewelry, so I probably wouldn’t appreciate it. I think I’d rather a simple band. I never wanted an especially fancy dress, but I did want engraved invitations. Real engraved invitations. But then I thought about how they’re just going to end up in a drawer somewhere anyway, so that wasn’t important. I was looking forward to registering at all my favorite stores, but then I realized that I’ve been living alone for the majority of the last decade and I have all the stuff anyone could ever want. Pots, pans, sheets, towels? Got em. Crockpot? I have 2. And 3 cutting boards. And some very expensive knives. I really don’t have a need for wedding loot.


So, what do I really want? That’s simple. All I need is me, Mister, God and a place to sit.


I’ve come to realize that when the time comes for me to make a commitment to the man that the Creator has made for me, the only people that actually need to be there are myself, that man and God. And since God is everywhere at all times, there’s always availability. If we decide to meet up at the park or the coffee shop or the bus station and become man and wife, it’s pretty much done. We go on from that point being what we are. Maybe that’s not ‘legal’ but the way I see it, if we make a commitment before God, it is what it is. We can go make it legal at the courthouse, but it doesn’t make us any more married. It just means other people agree that we are married. And there’s nothing wrong with that, it’s useful in a lot of ways. But in just as many ways, it doesn’t matter at all.


Our ancestors, our elders didn’t go through all these changes to become man and wife and those unions, those bonds of love lasted through joyful times and tremendous adversity. There was a time when being “legally” married wasn’t even an option for our elders. But they made the commitment to each other and to God. Ask someone who’s been married 30, 40, 50 years about their wedding. There was no junior bridesmaid. There was no ice sculpture at the reception. There was no stretch Hummer to whisk them away. The thing they did have was a commitment to loving one another, which they made before the Almighty. Maybe there was some cake and punch afterward, but it wasn’t the important thing. What was important was each other.


Don’t get me wrong: I think it would be fun to be princess for a day at my wedding. But the older I get, it’s not as important to me anymore. The way I see, we can get married in the back yard, just the two of us, have a little rainbow sherbet afterward and call it a night. I’m most interested in being my King’s Queen for the rest of our lives.




Sep29

We are losing our children…

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We are losing our children…

We are losing our children. They didn’t get lost on their own. They turned down side streets and took back alleys looking for the way home. We weren’t there to turn on the porch light, to let them know we were still there, so now they’re lost. They wander the cruelty of this world, this place we build and abandon daily, searching for home among the monuments to ego we created. Looking for meaning in the things we hold so dear, the things we build for ‘the man’ and turn around and buy from ‘the man’ with money on loan from ‘the man’. It’s not there. Instead of finding that meaning, our children lay wasted and forgotten. The unfulfilled potential withers away in bodies that are stretching, straining, waiting to be understood. Waiting for love, while we watch ‘Real Chance of Love’. Waiting for someone to wipe tears, while we wipe down our new cars. Waiting for quality time, while we work overtime. And we mean well. We want to give our children a better life, but in the process we’ve forgotten to teach them how to live.


They throw fits. They act out. Ever seen a lost child? They show out until Mama comes running. But what if Mama never comes? Daddy never comes? Auntie and Uncle won’t come? Grannie and Big Papa can’t come? What to do? Baby gotta keep trying until someone listens, until someone hears a cry. We can’t pretend not to hear our children crying any longer.


What’s the reality? Some of us don’t know how to live. We were never taught. We feel ill-equipped to face the youth that so desperately need us because we were left to learn it all on our own. So we leave them to figure it out. Work it out. Fight their way out. The stakes are higher today than ever before. We can’t let our children fight their way out any more, because they are losing. All over this country, they are fighting a losing war against one another because they don’t understand that they are on the same side. They are fighting a losing war against themselves because they haven’t learned to value themselves over material things and their souls over foolish pride. And we haven’t learned it all yet, but we have to trust the Almighty to inure us with the knowledge and the courage to guide our children. That’s the only way.


We are losing our children, but it’s not too late. If you saw a child running into a busy street, you’d do all you could to snatch them back onto the curb. This is one and the same. We teach, though we aren’t all teachers. We parent, though we aren’t all parents. If we chose to guide, we will be given divine instructions. But we have to make the choice and we have to make it now. The true legacy of our days is not in the land we own nor the money we have in the bank, but it is in our children. We cannot afford to let them lose their way.

Sep16

Barack Obama is NOT your husband.

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Barack Obama is NOT your husband.
Bet YOU would have gotten YOUR man some new shoes. Girl, too bad this isn’t YOUR man.
It happened again. If you want to be starting something, question President Obama around a Black woman. And then duck. No, you’d probably better run.

I saw this coming. Those poster collages in your cubicles. The starry eyed expressions whenever he was on television. The sweaty palms when he was in your town. Don’t let a sister have gone to the actual venue he was at – she’s probably still on a chocolate high and showing people grainy pictures from her camera phone a whole year later. This crush has gotten out of control.

I like him too. He seems like a nice guy and I think he was the right choice. But that doesn’t mean that I’m going to agree with everything he says or does. Recently, I’ve had conversations with other women about how the President’s term has gone so far. I must admit, I’ve had some reservations about some of the things President Obama has done and hasn’t done. I thought that was allowed. I was so wrong. Expressions started to change. Brows became furrowed. Eyes started rolling. I wondered what I’d done or said that was so wrong. Then it hit me:

I was talking about their man.

Now, I know everyone was digging the promise of change and the audacity of YES WE CAN and everything else that came with the Obama campaign. But on a deeper level, Barack Obama is the man that so many Black women have been waiting for. He’s smart and well educated, seemingly down to earth, funny, attractive, a family man. Just the thing we’ve been looking for – and not finding-at the club on a Saturday night. So we took him close to our hearts. He became our man. And talking about our man is a definite no-no. Our gut reaction is blind defense.

Women in general, but black women especially, are fiercely loyal. If we love you, you’d better get used to it, cause we’re not going anywhere. And we’re always ready to defend our man, whether he’s right or wrong and whether we know all the facts or not. It’s a somewhat admirable trait, when it is your man in question. But Barack Obama is not your man. He’s the President of the United States.

The President has to stand on his own. The same measure I’d use for George Bush or Bill Clinton, I have to use for Barack Obama. Yeah, I understand he’s inherited a mess. That really sucks. Now, he has to make the decisions necessary to begin to get us out of this mess, to change how the world sees our country and to make it better for our kids. That means some tough, unpopular choices. I do question the President’s audacity when it comes to that. He’s always played it near the middle, trying to please everyone in the name of unity. I get that, I really do. But nothing happens in the middle. The middle is the status quo and that’s what we’re trying to get away from. So when the pressure is on, I need President Obama not to fold. Or be everyone’s friend. Or keep quiet. It’s not time for that.

Think about your own man for a minute, or at least the one you used to have (I’m not hating, I fall in the latter category.) Could he take you seriously if you agreed with everything he said? I mean, he might have enjoyed it for a while, but could he take it seriously? Or did he appreciate that you, respectfully, called him to the carpet if he was wrong? Not nag him or fight about it, but expect that he made the decisions that were best for your family or your relationship. If Obama was really your man, would you not question his choices sometimes? I can’t imagine he’d have much respect for a woman who didn’t. And I’m sure that his own wife, at times, does.

It’s okay to be in the President’s corner. And it’s okay, to a certain degree, to defend him against lies, misrepresentations and other bits of slander that may be flying his way. But it’s also okay to dialogue about what’s going right and what’s going wrong, because everything isn’t going right. You really don’t have to take it personally when people bring it up the sticky issues regarding Barack Obama and his presidency, because that’s Michelle Obama’s job and I’m sure she does it beautifully.

Sep11

Sacred Womb…

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Sacred Womb…
Don’t get excited. My spare room is still an office, not a nursery.
What’s a woman?

I’m probably not alone in defining my womanhood, at least to a certain degree, by a set of organs carefully hidden inside my body. Masterfully tucked inside of me, there is a womb. A potential home for a baby. I carry a uterus and other stuff that make me, undoubtedly, a woman.

But what if those things weren’t there? Would I still be a woman? I’m watching, with interest, the case of Caster Semenya, who is (possibly) just learning that she’s missing a valuable piece of the puzzle that is womanhood – her womb. And while there are other issues surrounding this, what I immediately thought of was how that must feel. While it’s one thing for that area of your anatomy to lay dormant, it’s entirely another to consider it a vacancy. Where there should be something, there is nothing. I imagine it an emptiness far beyond the mere absence of children. What must it be like to know that even if you tried really hard, with in vitro and pills and whatever else they’ve dreamed up, you’ll never birth a child because you have no where for that child form. I’m not even sure my internal equipment is actually working, but I do know it’s there. I take it for granted, this sacred space that’s been created inside of me. Most women who choose not to have children or are unable to for some medical reason still have a place inside them where life, theoretically, could grow. What if it didn’t even exist?

I’d still be a woman, even if that defining attribute was absent. I know how I feel and I think that’s all that matters. Would a man consider me a woman knowing that our interiors were eerily similar? I’m not sure. How we define what a woman is might be one of the most interesting questions I’ve pondered in a while. Is a woman the opposite of a man? Well, what if she’s just opposite on the outside? What if she’s opposite, but doesn’t look like a woman. Not she dresses like a man or presents herself as a man, what if she genuinely looks like a man? Are you a woman if no one will treat you as one? Are you a woman if no one believes you are?

I’d never given any of this a thought until lately, but apparently it’s an issue for a lot of women. Some statistics say 1 in 5000 women are born without a womb, a condition called MRKH. There are a lot of sad conditions in the world, but this struck me as particularly sad, because even though I’ve never actually seen my womb, it’s very much a part of me. I suppose I assumed it was a part of every woman’s identity. But there are many components to building an identity. I’m convinced that what you know as your truth is more important than anything else. There are no mistakes when it comes to our Divine creation, all the mistakes come in our perceptions. A woman can be a woman, even if she’s technically not a “wombman”.

Sep1

Cram to Understand You…

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Cram to Understand You…

Ju-Just like a test, I cram to understand you.

People aren’t always going to understand you.

We spend a lot of time trying to make people understand us, though. Dream our dreams. Think our thoughts. See our vision. Sometimes others can get an idea about where you’re going. But often they won’t get it at all. They’ll shake their heads and smile blankly. And you know they don’t get it. So you’ll try to explain again. And again. And again.

Stop it.

Don’t stop believing in your vision, but stop trying to explain it to everyone. Because everyone’s not ready for what you’re about to do. The cold, hard fact is that some people couldn’t see your gift if you wrapped it in a box and put a big, red bow on it. It’s not always because they’re trying to be difficult. They’re just not ready. You can’t make them see it right now. Some people can see it and will act like they can’t because they wish they’d thought of it. You’re just making yourself frustrated – quit trying to make everyone a disciple and just go do it.

It’s comforting for people to tell us that they understand what we’re thinking because – in our minds – it means that we must not be crazy. We get scared when other people can’t grasp what we’re trying to do. But fear can be a powerful motivator. When you’re the only one who can make your ideas come to life, you cannot afford to lose. So you don’t. You surround yourself with people who can either ‘get it’ or can live with the fact that they don’t ‘get it’, but support you anyhow. And you launch your ideas into the stratosphere.

Your dreams are your own. Maybe they’re too big for others to imagine right now, but it costs the same to dream big as it does to dream small, so you might as well get the most bang for your buck. When it’s done, when the plans are perfected, when the world can finally see your vision come to life, it will be worth no one understanding right now. You might wish people could recognize all along how important it was or what a great idea you had, but in the end all that matters is that people receive it. And if it’s your gift, your true gift, people will have to receive it. It won’t be up to them. The Divine will make sure of it.

Aug23

The First Day of School…

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The First Day of School…

So it’s on once again come tomorrow.

I’ll be there. So will they. And I want you to know that all the motivational speeches I’ve gotten this past week didn’t make a difference. I was already ready already. This is what I do.

I’ll be there with my game face on, just about everyday. When my stomach is killing me (which was often last year) or my disposition isn’t sunny, I’ll still show up. When everything’s going wrong, I’ll be there faking the funk from 7:30 – 2:45. It’s not their problem that I’m having a problem. Sometimes I can’t be there, but when I’m not, I worry about them. I wish I didn’t, but usually I do. They’re my kids, you know.

I’ll be there listening to their stories, helping them make sense of the world the best I can, teaching them the things the state says they should know and a few other things I know they should know. That’s the best I can do and sometimes that doesn’t seem like enough, but it’s what I’m tasked with.

I’ll be there tapping my yardstick on the ground like a caricature of a teacher. My glasses will be at the tip of my nose. I’ll be scowling until Thanksgiving. They’ll love to hate me until I trip over something and bust my behind on the ground. They’ll look around nervously until I start to laugh. Then they’ll laugh. Now we’re friends. Well, not really. Kinda. They don’t need another friend. They need a teacher. That’s me.

I’ll be calling parents eventually, trying to explain to them what’s going on. Listening to the stories. Heartbreaking stories. Ridiculous stories. Stories that may never have a happy ending. Stories of people just trying to do the best they can by their children. I know that’s the case, most of the time. And usually I get all the support I need. But sometimes I don’t. And we soldier on anyway.

I’ll be ready to start this whole thing over again tomorrow. Each year I say I’m going to get a job fixing computers or being an adminstrative assistant. Last year I said I was going to work at Old Navy. Not part time. Full time. Idle threats. Duking it out with teenagers is what I love. For now.

I’ll be on the corner of the girls restroom and Room 120 tomorrow waiting for the future to come get what I’ve got to share. Holla at me. 7:30 AM. Don’t be tardy.

Aug18

On being true to yourself…

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On being true to yourself…

Hey! There you are! I missed you!

Last summer, after a few years of being natural (and after a few months of an unintentionally low fade), I relaxed my hair. No one made me do it, I did it myself. I could chalk the decision up to being bored, but that really wasn’t it. No, I relaxed my hair because I didn’t think anyone would find me attractive with it natural. I hated that reason too; it sounded so vain. Who cares what people think, right? But it was definitely the truth. I convinced myself (my grandma helped!) I’d never meet anyone with a head full of naps and while it was a fun experiment, I’d better get back to some Optimum Care sooner than later.

Except, when I looked in the mirror after I’d done it, I didn’t feel like myself anymore. My hair was cute: short, silky, jet black. Just like it was when I headed off to college. It did look nice, I must admit. But I didn’t look or feel like myself. That was the old KaLeah staring back at me. I knew it wasn’t who I was anymore before I did it, but I thought that feeling would pass. It didn’t. I did go on a couple more dates. But they weren’t with anyone worth feeling altering my appearance for. The fact of the matter was that I woke up in the morning feeling like a phony. Not because of my relaxed hair, but because of why I’d relaxed my hair. Pretty soon, I was growing it out again.

Listen, this isn’t a post about why natural hair is better than relaxed hair. I don’t think that’s true anyway. I think the best hair for you is the hair you’re most comfortable with, whatever that is. (That choice is so personal. I hate it when people rail on and on about one being better than the other.) What this is about is being true to yourself and not making decisions based on how you think people will perceive you. When I look at pictures of my hair from 2 years ago, I can’t believe I cut all that cottony, nappy, fun to play with (yess!) hair off and relaxed it. And I can’t believe I let myself get caught up in what I thought people would think if I didn’t. At the end of the day, you have to do what’s right for you. Whatever that is. It’s true with most things in your life. That’s the moral of this story.

My grandma loves me to death and she doesn’t really like my hair, but in the end, she told me that you just have to be happy however you can. She’s 81; she ought to know. But I know, in her heart, she’s holding out for me to at least try a press and curl!


Aug13

Focus…

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Focus…
When I’m looking at the news and I’m seeing the craziness going on at these health care town hall meetings, I can’t help but thinking about how unfocused this whole thing has become. Really, what’s at issue is that there are a lot of people who are uninsured or under-insured. There needs to be a way to make sure they have adequate healthcare. That’s all. People are getting all hamstrung about having their voices heard and that’s important. But I can’t help but think that the real issue is being forgotten about.

Sometimes we get so caught up in talking that we forget what we were talking about. It’s hard because when you care about something, emotions run high. But you can’t lose sight of what’s really important. That’s in anything you do. In my opinion, whether you’re talking about work or community interests or personal goals, losing focus is the number one obstacle to getting things done. I say this because people like me stop paying attention until we get back to the point.

When a meeting is going off the rails around me, you can bet that I’m going to try to get it back on course. My attention span is getting shorter as I age and I need us to get to the action quick.
If that’s not possible or permissible, I’m usually drawing a picture or something. Whenever we get back to the real issue, I’m ready to talk. But until then…

Personal focus is important too. I’m guilty of forgetting what’s important in my life and getting sidetracked with minor details. Everything can’t be on the front burner – that’s why there are back burners. Focusing on the end results of my real personal goals, and not that other stuff, helps me formulate a plan and not become discouraged with the sometimes seemingly insurmountable steps of the plan. A lot of times, focusing on the end result is the only thing that will keep you going.
My feelings about health care reform are not the topic of this post. If you really want to know, let me know and I’ll tell you. I already let my representatives know. The point is that productivity slows to a standstill when we forget what’s important. I’m not sure anyone even knows what the argument is about at these town hall meetings anymore. Enough fussing for the sake of fussing. Keeping in mind the importance of the issue, especially to the millions of people who are uninsured, would help people deal with one another with a lot more respect.
Aug11

…and you did it anyway?

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…and you did it anyway?
photo credit: artfulwisdom.blogspot.com
I’m a grown woman (see previous posts for more on that subject), but sometimes I do the most childlike things. Last night, I was up sick as a dog because I’d eaten something that I knew I wasn’t supposed to eat. As a matter of fact, I ate a whole lot of stuff I wasn’t supposed to eat – all weekend long. So all day yesterday I was feeling a little shaky and last night I was miserable. It would be one thing if I didn’t know that was going to happen. But I’ve had this issue since I was in college and this year I finally came up with a solution. So I knew that eating what I ate was going to make me ridiculously sick – and I did it anyway.

But how many times do we do that? The relationships we know aren’t any good for us, but we enter into them anyway. Commitments we can’t possibly keep or responsibilities we know we’re too overloaded for, but we agree to anyway. Things that are self destructive and counterproductive, but we justify them anyway. I think the key word here is ‘anyway’. What ‘anyway’ means is that the thing in question will happen at any cost – any way. Too often it ends up costing our sanity, our health and our relationships.

You can justify anything if you try hard enough. And sometimes there are good things to do, but we just aren’t in the position to do them at that time. But when you know you shouldn’t do something or you can’t accept a commitment to the best of your ability right now, don’t go doing it anyway. It won’t turn out the way you want it to. When your commitment is to give the best you’ve got, you have to make some tough choices. Some things might have to fall away so that you can give your best where you can. And if what you’re wanting to do ‘anyway’ is something you know better than to do, giving your best means giving it up completely. When you know better, you do better, right?

I apologize, tummy. I won’t let you down again.

Aug7

"I’m talking gift…"

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"I’m talking gift…"

You did recognize the title, right? OutKast – Aquemini (from my senior year! Go ’99!)

“Your gifts make a way for themselves.” Dr. Michael Beckwith

For many people, discovering your gift isn’t the hard part. Maybe you can sing or cook or organize and you already know that. Others can usually see your gifts and are more than willing to point them out – especially when they would benefit from you putting your gift to work. I don’t think that’s the challenge for most people.

The challenge, for myself at least, is knowing the best way to share or put my gift to good use. You can choose many paths. Some are more self-serving (or appear that way, but maybe they really aren’t), some aren’t. I don’t think either is necessarily better than the other; you have to weigh that for yourself. If was a baker, I could choose to have a high end bakery and only sell to the people who could afford my fabulous tasty treats. Or I could only bake deserts for the hungry so that they could enjoy a tasty treat sometimes too. Or I could do both. The point is, I’d have to find the correct fit for my gift – the best way to manifest my gift, with guidance from the Divine.

There is a way to share whatever your gift is. Sometimes we don’t see it immediately, but when you search for it mindfully, you’ll come across it. Our purpose can’t be to watch the First 48 and eat granola all day. If it were, my purpose in life would be fulfilled already and I could just go on in. There’s more and when you figure out what your ‘more’ is, your job is to get to work doing it. Sharing your gifts with the world, when you’re doing it the way it’s meant to be done, is like wearing a tailored garment. Everyone has clothes that fit. Some fit really nicely. But when you get something tailored, it fits you. Perfectly. And even though things before were close, they don’t fit as well as a tailored piece. Your gift and it’s manifestation are made for each other. They fit one another perfectly.