Crossing my fingers…
so that I can attend the support rally for Trayvon Martin on Thursday
Currently working on getting my work shift covered
“Black men make up about 6% of the American population but over a third of the prison population.”
Currently watching Lisa Ling’s “Our America:Incarceration Generation”. She’s exploring the disproportionate number of black men behind bars and the challenges they face after being released, as well as how imprisonment becomes a generational cycle among impoverished African Americans.
“ Your purpose in life is to find your purpose and give your whole heart and soul to it.
8 November
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Siddhartha Gautama
This is how I feel about teaching
(Source: myquotelibrary, via myquotelibrary)
Sometimes those unexpected changes teach the greatest lessons
It’s much easier to accept change and move on instead of fooling yourself. I’m a seriously firm believer that everything happens for a reason; it’s all part of a greater plan that’ll eventually make sense. When you accept something that you never thought would happen instead of stressing over it, it makes you feel so much better.
I give a lot of people genuine pep talks: Reminding them to stay positive, relieve stress, keep faith in God and his plan, and to have patience.
As easy as it is to uplift others, it isn’t always that simple to do it for myself
But this is natural.
Some days I need to be given a pep talk, reminded of my goals and that I am on the right track..even if I’m not exactly where I want to be, I’m on my way.
Today was one of those days where I needed a pep talk.
Luckily I had someone to give me one and listen to my random emotional nonsense.
It’s just one of them days.
Death of A Black Woman
While struggling with the reality of being a human instead of a myth,
the strong black woman passed away. Medical sources say she died of
natural causes, but those who knew her know.She died from being silent when she should have been screaming, smiling
when she should have been raging, from being sick and not wanting anyone to know because her pain might inconvenience them.
She died from an overdose of other people clinging to her when she
didn’t even have energy for herself.
She died from loving men who didn’t love themselves and could only
offer her a crippled reflection.
She died from raising children alone.
She died from the lies her grandmother told her mother and her mother
told her about life, men & racism..
She died from being sexually abused as a child and having to take that
truth everywhere she went every day of her life, exchanging the
humiliation for guilt and back again.
She died from asphyxiation, coughing up blood from secrets she kept
trying to burn away instead of allowing herself the kind of nervous
breakdown she was entitled to, but only white girls could afford.
She died from being responsible, because she was the last rung on the
ladder and there was no one under her she could dump on.
The strong black woman is dead.
She died from being a mother at 15 and a grandmother at 30 and an
ancestor at 45.
She died from being dragged down and sat upon by un-evolved women
posing as sisters and friends.
She died from tolerating Mr. Pitiful, just to have a man around the house.
She died from sacrificing herself for everybody and everything when
what she really wanted to do was be a singer, a dancer, or some magnificent other.
She died from lies of omission because she didn’t want to bring the
black man down.
She died from tributes from her counterparts who should have been
matching her efforts instead of showering her with dead words and empty songs.
She died from myths that would not allow her to show weakness without
being chastised by the lazy and hazy.
She died from hiding her real feelings until they became hard and
bitter enough to invade her womb and breasts like angry tumors.
She died from always lifting something from heavy boxes to
refrigerators all by herself.
The strong black woman is dead.
She died from never being enough of what men wanted, or being too much for the men she wanted.
She died from being too black and died again for not being black
enough.
She died from being misinformed about her mind, her body & the extent
of her royal capabilities.
She died from knees pressed too close together because respect was
never part of the foreplay that was being shoved at her.
She died from loneliness in birthing rooms and aloneness in abortion centers.
She died in bathrooms with her veins busting open with self-hatred and neglect.
And sometimes when she refused to die, when she just refused to give in
she was killed by the lethal images of blond hair, blue eyes and flat butts.
Sometimes, she was stomped to death by racism & sexism, executed by
hi-tech ignorance while she carried the family in her belly, the community on her head, and the race on her back!
The strong black woman is dead!
Or is she? No she isn’t, not if she’s reading this.
Pass this on to all the strong black women that you love, respect, and
admire!
(Source: themulattogirl)
It’s not an easy road.
Many see the glamour and the glitter,
so they think it’s a bed of rose.
Who feels it knows.
Lord help me sustain these blows.
From the minute of birth,
you enter this Earth,
obstacles in your way to overcome first…
Throughout every way and endeavor
Lord God you see it.
No matter what the world may say on the street,
Must survive, won’t accept defeat.
-Buju Banton, Not an Easy Road
As I’ve matured…
I’ve come to learn and accept that I am more of a “behind the scenes” type of person. I’m more than capable of doing all that’s needed or required in forward and visible positions but I feel more comfortable taking care of business behind the curtain. If something needs to be done and I’m capable of doing it better than those on the front line, then yes, I step forward, but ideally, I’d rather be the support, necessity provider and organizer. I’ve noticed this to be true time and time again at the jobs that I’ve had over the years. In reference to the jobs that I currently have: I’d rather wash dishes for hours and be in my thoughts than stand at a register. I’d rather polish glasses and set tables than take and deliver someones order. What I find most important is being skilled in various trades of life but ideally finding that one particular passion where you are the main character and star of the show. My future classroom(s) is/are where I’ll take my front position. Until then, I’d rather be behind the scenes doing what some consider to be more tedious/boring tasks because I honestly have no interest in what’s going on up front. Either way, I’m still doing what needs to be done to the best of my ability and I’m just fine.
