Collective Trauma

I was a little girl when I first heard "Strange Fruit." It unsettled me. When I saw images of the carnival type environments during public lynchings, I understood. (Google them. They are plentiful.) Whole families and communities present; strange fruit was exciting. 

I remember KKK marches in Greenville as little girl and teen. Their right to assembly - even with their history of terror - protected. I didn’t have to like it, but I had to prize freedom of speech and assembly. Right?

My high school history teacher told me that. 

"You want them [the KKK] to have their rights protected. If their rights are infringed, it sets precedence for all of our rights to be infringed." So, I believed my right to freedom was tied to theirs. 

The Mis-Education of this Negro...

When I saw the photo of Emmitt Till, again as a little girl, I cried. Even now, all these years later, those images are deeply disturbing. All the photos and vidoes are. I have never watched the footage of George Floyd's murder. 

When I traced one of my paternal ancestors to a plantation in Mississippi owned by Nancy McMillan, the Slave Log listed children. The youngest was age 1. Born into subjugation. Human property. Dehumanized.

Understanding my own history - the history of my community - I do not want to be complicit in the dehumanization of any person or group. 

When our children are in high school or college, they will read about these times. They will see the images. They will wonder what we did or did not do. I hope to give an explanation they can respect.

I hope/wish/pray for the day we have a generation that will not have experience with collective trauma.

A Whole Ass Renewable Water Source

Most of us want to be water in someone else's life - essential, GOOD FOR YOU - and not simply ice cream: decadent, unhealthy, GOOD TO YOU. 

Immature humans cannot conceive that it is not a flex to soley be considered ice cream. That it is, in fact, reductive and disrespectful. Frankly, when a human is great at anything, they’ve been told. 

They know it. 

Ego strokes are satisfying, and they are unnecessary. An ego stroke at the expense of self-respect is a call to action and reflection. Perhaps, it warrants a well-worded, intelligent, profane-free gathering heavy on the "Fuck all the way the fuck off" energy.

I'm 33, not 23. If you only know me from my teens & 20s, you do not know me. If I only know you from your teens & 20s, I do not know you. People are not static beings; we are dynamic. We change. 

It can be necessary to check myself and others. All attention ain't good attention. Some compliments are not sources of validation or affirmation.

 ...

Be wary of degradation disguised as compliments. Ego can make us complicit.

I Stand for Peace

A couple of years ago, I sat quietly with open admiration as the man I adored lit candles and did Hebrew recitations. It was my first time celebrating Hanukkah. It was my first intimate exposure with Jewish culture.

But it was not about me nor should it have been. 

I was an invited guest into a celebration steeped with history, culture, and family. I felt honored to be an observer. Truly, I loved him a little more for allowing me to bear witness.

I remember the conversation about its origin. It was over a plate of kugel. Another first.

There were other conversations too. They gave the smallest snippet into his experiences. I know this sarcastic, intelligent, simple, fascinating, beautiful human experienced varying degrees of antisemitism throughout life.

I have thought of him and Jewish people all over the world since the extreme, violent Hamas attacks. I hold this community in my heart as the bloodshed continues. 

  

...

I am sure if I (or any of us) spent time with Palestinian people, I'd have beautiful stories to share. I am sure I would have appreciation and reverence for their culture too. I am keenly aware that my (or any of our) lack of exposure to a people and culture does not diminish their humanity and value.

I mourn with and hold Palestinians too. As the complete siege of Gaza continues, my heart breaks for the devastation and destruction they are experiencing. Palestinian people, like Israelis and all of us, are worthy of freedom, safety, and protection.

...

I am with the world in being horrified and heartsick about the war in Israel and Gaza.

Israeli and Palestinian lives matter, and they are being ravished. Their suffering must bring out our humanity. The world does not need any more polarization. 

Embedded to Exit

I waited for this energy to disappear. "Take some initiative!" I wanted there to come a morning it wakes up, jolts me one last time - long and intense for memory's sake - and leave. For good. Then, I'd have permission. Its. My own. Yours. Have I forgotten? Energy can neither be created nor destroyed. It must be converted.

...

It's 5:17. I've been writing for over an hour. Energy seeping through me and into the content. I'm the container and consciousness of a conscience struggling to employ common sense when it comes an extraordinary energy. It's 5:23, and I need movement. I'm trying to change states. From potential to kinetic. From embedded to exit. 

Mythical Creatures

I am not fireproof.

I am forged in the fire.

The heat transforms.

And I emerge something new.

Different.

Powerful.

More durable.

More beautiful.

Sharper.

This?

It's more than a burn.

It is trans​fig​u​ra​tion.

Watch me emerge from the ashes of my previous selves and former lives.

Watch me walk in truth after lying in fire.

1 fact, 1 filter 

Humans Change

MJ's arrival into my life changed my relational needs. 

Prior to him, I hoped for better, improved parental relationships, but I saw it as want not a necessity. Family closeness was desired not prioritized. I alreay had a few key friendships; community was optional. Long-term relationships (marriage and the like) were not on the table.

I actually thought myself self-sufficient. In arrogance and error, I saw my life as a "self-contained entity. Children humble you. 🥴 With the quickness.

Now, I have to retract uninformed, ignorant assertions. I have to acknowledge that I need support. I need the village, and I am actively considering a move for this reason. 

Lots of people have complicated families and parental relationships. I know I am not alone. Still, it fascinates me.

I thought I required space for my own emotional safety. Now proximity for MJ seems best. In some ways having a dependent makes me more dependent.

I needed help for work travel. My dad came through. He took care of MJ for a weekend. That's a beautiful wild to me.

I need help this week. My mom is coming. Thank God.

When it comes to MJ, the grown-up LeKechia has to show up. The little girl LeKechia, valid as her concerns are, cannot dictate his relationship with my parents. Her grievances cannot deprive him of something we are grateful to have...beautiful, loving relationships with both Grandmothers.

It is okay to have frustration as a daughter. It's not okay to allow that to transform into dysfunction as a mother. People can only give what they have. Free them of [often unrealistic] expectations. Free yourself of disappointment.

Years ago I read Dr. Maya Angelou's Mom & Me & Mom. Something she wrote comes to my remembrance: You were a terrible mother of small children, but there has never been anyone greater than you as a mother of a young adult.

It highlights that parents have seasons. Parents change. Children change. Humans change. 

The byproduct of giving others more grace is that there will be more grace available to me. Goodness knows I need it. Conscience knows I must extend it.

Suffering Addicted Weirdos

Often we try to out-suffer each other as a way to indicate we are tough with high endurance. 

On the surface, it's the weirdest shit.

You worked 80 hours this week? 

I work 168 hours every week, cook daily, and work out too.

You think single life is hard? 

I have a spouse, 78 kids, and 5 full-time jobs.

You think married life is hard? 

Try handling everything without support.

You think 1 kid is hard? 

Try being a parent to 106 kids.

You think your childhood was hard?

...

So on and so forth.

We reduce and delegitimize. We make our experiences central and everyone else's relative. We act as though we're all experiencing everything in the exact same way.

When I get out of judgement and look below the surface, I see people who need to be validated. We're not simply suffering addicted weirdos. We just want confirmation that our experiences are real and meaningful. We want to know our individual hard is actually hard.

Here's the reminder:

If you are experiencing a thing, and it is difficult to you. It's difficult. Period. It doesn't matter its level of ease for anyone else.

If I am experiencing a thing, and it is difficult for me. It's difficult. Period. It doesn't matter its level ease for anyone else.

...

Help me to remember that frailty is part of the human experience and Divine power is perfected in my weakness. Help me to listen to and support others without comparison and reduction. When I forget, remind me that tolerance for trauma is not a metric of strength. Let me embrace joy, peace, and rest. Let me release my addiction to suffering. Help me to be a safe, soft space for others.

Mine Eyes Have Seen

I know it is not good to dwell on the challenges of one's life in fixation or rumination. Being in the moment - looking to the future - is good. Sometimes, however, I must look back and remember what I've come through. 

It puts into perspective that while new challenges are real, different, and still difficult, they are not insurmountable. I've been through harder times than these. I've not been forsaken or begging bread.

Yes, absolutely, I want to stay in humility. 

Still, I must remind myself of my own fortitude. In this 33-year-walk of life, I've experienced things that shook me up and broke me down. Yet, because of God's mercies, I was not consumed. And, I am not consumed.

Every single shifting took me to a new place. Every new place connected me with good people and things. Ultimately, that's my faith story. I've done XYZ. I've experienced XYZ. I acted and was acted upon in deleterious ways. And, still, I can see God working everything out for the good. I do see His goodness in the land of living.

I'm literally cuddling goodness.

So, yes, I can trust God, without leaning on my own understanding, and have rest and peace without answers and solutions. This is not about making it make sense. This is not about forging a way according to my finite understanding and foresight. 

It's about casting cares, waiting, renewing, and being at peace with whatever may come.

...

Every time the Biblical Israelites faced a new challenge, they seemed to forget the miracles God performed and the favor He showed them during the previous ones. I do not want my memory long for the sake of harboring and resenting. But I do want to remember what mine eyes have seen.

Rooted or Swayed

Navigating a system I spent my teens and 20s vigorously avoiding is deeply humbling. I am now aware of judgements I did not know I held about single motherhood and recipients of assistance. I am aware of the shame I always attached to mothers and children sharing different last names. I find myself wanting to explain, so the observer doesn't see "just another welfare queen" or "single black mother." 

I know, however, that there's something for me to learn in this seat of discomfort. I know that perception and truth is often different. And if I root myself in truth, why be swayed by perception?

"Navigating Not Enough"

The ground is level at the foot of the cross. - Steven Furtick 

Don't replace Christ's compassion with man's comparison.