To all the beautiful black girls staring at 30 Who don’t know what they’re doing, or what to get worked up about There is nothing wrong with you I promise… You are not too picky, too ugly, too bright, too happy, too independent, too educated Nah, you’re just right. Don’t worry about changing your hair, … Continue reading Be Encouraged
I find it funny how words mean such different things to different people. I think about the constant assault upon women’s bodies and minds and wonder if perhaps the word courage is misused. Now don’t get me wrong, courage isn’t gender-specific but I sure don’t think we use it enough to describe women. Perhaps the … Continue reading Alphabet Soup: Courage
I began writing this essay in 2014, but I couldn’t finish it. Then once I finished it, I just couldn’t publish it. So I’ve decided that I would abridge one of the most personal essays I have ever written. It is 2,000 words long in its entirety, and exposes parts of me that perhaps some of my closest friends have yet to see.
For the past five years I have encountered an incredible journey of discovery, honesty and faith. One that has given me many causes, and many battles. When I look at my younger self I see a young woman, lost, angry and confused. I felt illegitimate, unwanted and voiceless. I was constantly quietened, made fun of and told my opinion did not matter. In a number of spheres I was discredited and looked over. I felt faceless, unnoticed and often times helpless. I was given neither context, comfort nor armor for the various assaults or abuses I faced, or encountered second hand. Not to mention that my family did not discuss or entertain certain social or ethical issues. I don’t recall discussing anything of consequence. Perhaps out of politeness we avoided hard conversations about religion, politics, race and sexuality. Instead my education was confined to the halls and classrooms of my semi-private Catholic girls school. So in a lot of ways, and for a long time I was sheltered and micromanaged.I spent years feeling caged, boxed in and misunderstood. Now I understand why. Of course I’ve only obtained this window of clarity after encountering numerous struggles, experiences and people —outside of my comfort zone.
I don’t remember much of 1998. It was after all, so long ago. What I can vividly recall is that my fourth grade teacher changed my life. I can say with certainty that her charisma, and enthusiasm for teaching changed how I viewed myself, the world, and my place in it. Even now, I treasure … Continue reading To Ms. Jones, My Fourth Grade Teacher: (JET Application Essay)
Who I am: Broken hearts do love again. Continue reading Who I am: Broken hearts do love again.