Thinking Kinky : The Nappy Haired Diva

 There she was, Patty Gregory. Patty was as cute as a button and I wanted to be her friend. This was back a Black person with fair skin was beautiful without taking their heart, mind, or physical features into consideration. She was cute though on the outside and because of that, being lighter skinned made her even cuter. Add the fact that her hair was down her back and she immediately elevated to goddess level. I had to be her friend. I had to be worthy of her friendship. She had to accept me! ...and she did.  Later into the semester, a new girl came to our class. Her name was Kendra and she and Patty became fast friends. I watched closely, anxious that Kendra was not only going to rain on my parade but do it with my own thunder she was quickly stealing. Though fearful of being demoted from primary friend to secondary friend, my five year old self opted to keep a watchful eye before making a decision on how to secure my place in Patty's life. I grit my teeth as K...

I have held many jobs. Some of them were entrepreneurial in nature and other's were corporate oriented. I've strongly disliked most of them. Why? I was doing what paid me, rather than what was passionate to me. I would work office jobs and enjoy the "benefits".  Now, I realize that the interpretation of benefits is relative. Are benefits health insurance, year-end bonuses, and an abundance of leave allowance? Are benefits working from home, making your own hours, and receiving a handsome pay? Are benefits a relaxed work environment that allows for casual clothing and imbibing in the afternoon?  It wasn't until I began to define what qualified as a benefit within my work life that I began to steer further and further away from the role of employee and closer to the role of entrepreneur. I wanted to work for myself. I wanted to prove that the skills I'd utilized for the "benefit" of my employer could benefit myself. I quickly learned that it ...

  He assaulted me at gunpoint. I never imagined his capacity for evil until that moment. At the time I felt helpless and it frightened me. You never realize the capacity of someone else's power until they reign over you. I was unable to make choices, and I thought he was an ally and quickly realized that if I didn't submit to his will he would assume the role of enemy with little warning.  That was about seven years ago. It's interesting how it's said that seven is the divine number symbolizing completion because it took me about seven years to forgive the person who took my choice away that night.  It's difficult for me to share this, not because I suppress it or haven't confronted it. It's difficult for me to share this because I have children and I've not even shared this with them. I plan to reveal this to them, but when it's relevant to their lives as young women. They are still girls. I want to keep them safe, but I want to also equip...

The one question I have heard and become fatigued of answering is whether or not I am qualified to be a Life Coach if I haven't quite sorted out my own life.  Although my response to that question is addressed in the above video, I wanted to touch on a few things that I wasn't able to cover in depth within the six minute time frame I gave myself to make the video.  I don't facilitate prejudice. Yes, I said it. I don't entertain prejudice on any level. There is a reason why I maintain the appearance that I do. I don't dress this way just because it's my sense of style. I also dress this way to prove what I am capable of in spite of it. Being a woman, being Black, appearing "punk" have nothing to do with my heart. They speak to my my spirit but they don't define it. When I am on the phone counseling a friend for hours, that is what identifies me. When I am in an elderly woman's apartment helping her after she had f...

One Day I Woke Up And Loved Myself Love is something that I knew how to give but had to learn to receive. Though my love language is words of affirmation, it was far easier to accept a "good job" than an "I love you". I realized that rejecting the possibility of being sincerely loved enabled me to prevent myself from becoming vulnerable. Why become vulnerable when you don't trust anyone to love you?  This wayward method of suppressing my emotions went on for years and manifested into many dysfunctional relationships and self-sabotage. As time passed on I had to come to a point where I accepted myself without scrutiny. Yes, I have chicken legs, and yes my stomach has stretch marks that mar my abdomen with the war scars of motherhood. Yes, I have circles under my eyes that remind me of the broken promises of sleep I have made over the years. I'm divorced. My memory is about as good as the devil and for every pound I lose I seem to gain two back again...