Around Here. Touching Hearts.

For the second time in less than a month, I've caused a woman whom I don't even know to shed tears. The first was a vibrant young lady, probably all of 18-years old. I went to sandwich spot called California Steak and Fries while my eldest daughter was at her tumbling class. She was the cashier there and full of personality.

For some odd reason, she began sharing stories with me about her cute boyfriend and an ugly one. Laughing within. She tickled my heart with her forwardness and I found myself not wanting to leave, but my daughter looks forward to me watching her practice so I had to jet out. I even told my children about "this" young lady.

The next week while on our way from my daughter's tumbling class I stopped by the sandwich spot again. I was hungy. Not that hungry, but I wanted to see if the sweet young lady was there and she was. I was happy to see her as if I really knew her. I asked her about her boyfriends and she said, "that" she let go of the cute one and replaced him. She told me how the ugly one was getting on her nerves and "that" she was going to replace him too. "This" little lady!

I guess "this" particular night was my night to share. I pulled up my younger daughter's fan page to show her how we had made some attempts towards getting her exposed to the entertainment industry. She made some suggestions and said we should just create a youtube channel with some interesting content instead of going the cattle call route. She said her former cute boyfriend was Instagram-famous and if we wanted, she could get him to shout my daughter out. I appreciated her enthusiasm, but we're on hold until further notice with "that" pursuit.

I inquired about her family and she said she was a middle sister of three girls and two boys. I said to her, "You all probably drive your mother crazy." I forgot what else, but I asked another question about her mother then she said her mother had passed away from breast cancer last December. I shared with her how I lost mine in 2014 to lung cancer. I told how abruptly "it" all happened and she began to tear up, which caused me to do the same. I beckoned for her to come from around the counter so that I could hug her and we cried together for a brief moment. "It" was an embrace "that" I believe both our hearts needed. Whether I ever see her again, I'm forever touched by her sweet spirit and strength.

The second occurance happened just about an hour ago. My youngest daughter and I were shopping inside of a Family Dollar discount store searching for some items for her school project. The place was cluttered inside and there was a long line with only one cashier. After finding what we needed, we got in line. "It" moved fairly quickly, however, some of the people in line were a little impatient.

One very ignorant man walked up to the front of the line and very rudely, asked the cashier, "You mean to tell me, you're gonna have me stand in this long line and it's only one cashier?" The cashier replied calmly, "I'm sorry sir there's only one other cashier and I sent her to lunch, plus she's new." The man responded, "So that's the answer?" She said, "Unfortunately sir, yes."

If the expression on his face was a loaded gun, she would've been shot. He signaled to his friend to come on and as he walked toward the door he said to the cashier, "Time is money. By the time I make it up there to you, you'll owe me money." The nerve! This man was dirty and had a whole lot of nerve being so disrespectful towards "this" woman. As he and his friend walked out of the store we were next up. I said to the woman, "GOD Bless you working here. I couldn't put up." I thought, that she began to appear flushed and when I looked up at her to grab my receipt, tears were streaming down her face. I told her don't cry, just pray and look for other jobs; to try temp-agencies.

As we walked out, my daughter said, "that's sad." I agreed. When we got into the car I felt so bad for the woman knowing all "that" she must put up with working there. I sat in the car for a moment thinking about what I could do to help her. I did the only "thing" I could, which was write down my contact information, the name of the temp-agency I worked for, and noted that I could help her with her resume if she wanted. I went back into the store and she still hadn't totally regained her composure, but I got her attention anyhow and passed her my little note. She took "it" and said thank you.

I'm glad the man left, but the entrance to the place is on the side, not facing the street and there was no security guard present. Just cameras throughout the store and probably in the parking lot. Bottom line, the location is not safe, especially for a woman to be manning the place alone. I'm strongly considering making an attempt to get in contact with the owner on her behalf, but the complaint is mine and mine alone. I wouldn't want to jeopardize her job. It's obvious she needs "it."

Why else would she subject herself to "that" treatment working there? Yes, I witnessed just one situation, but I saw deeper pain in her eyes and I wanted to remind her "that" she has options no matter how far-fetched the possibilities may seem at "this" present time.

"Where there's a will, there's a way."

#PrayingForUsAll

I Love. My Friends.

...just when I'm feeling down with my back against the wall, "something" special happens, which reminds me, that I am fine just as I am and everything will fall into it's proper place at the right time!

Fantasy Happy. Wednesday!

Loving People. Lovely Faces.

My Peeps. My Folks. My Day One's. My Love's. My Family. Most of them, anyway!

My Big Girl!!!

My GODmother!!!

My DawnGunn Dizzle!!!

My Playbro!!!

My Lizzy Whizzy!!!

My GODsister Poom!!!

My Baby Girl!!!

My GODsister Kaysh!!!

My Favorite Cousin & Real-Life Black China Doll!!!

Taking a risk here...I might get told off for "this" and be forced to remove it. We'll see...lol!

My Black History: Day 10.

I'm so glad that I didn't miss "this" moment with my mother. It was her retirement party at work.

I certainly miss her physical presence now...

Thank you LORD for blessing me with a mother who did her best raising me and my brother!!!

 Kiss him for me. 

My Black History: Day 1

Defining My Black

What am I? Black or African American? 

I've debated with folks about trying to differentiate the two, but If I'm forced to choose, I can tell you.

I AM A BLACK WOMAN. 

To date, I haven't been interested enough in tracing my family tree to its original roots, but with knowledge passed on by some of my elders from my mother's side of the family, we're linked to the Cherokee Indian Tribe. I don't know a single African member of my family. It's no one's fault. Just a fact. 

The Black vs. African American argument can get complicated, but for me it's quite simple. I won't state it here, but I can't omit how the "N-word" plays a significant role in "this" as well. I'll explain further.

In a former Cultural Pluralism class I took at CSUDH  one of my classmates got into a heated discussion with our professor about his personal experiences interacting with Africans in America who were originally born in the Motherland. He said, that he was looked down upon by Africans as an African-American man born in America and because of "this" he doesn't consider himself African-American, but a Black-American. He went on and on about how Black-Americans are perceived by Africans as ignorant Americans who don't know their history without any real connection to Africa.

Of course, his experiences don't define mine, but Africans, African-Americans and Black folks, have a continuous problem, that other's can't fix for any of us. The onus is on us. There are no ifs, buts, or any way around "this."

I wish there wasn't so much residue still present from the times of slavery. I wish "that" none of us possessed the "(house) N-word or (field) N-word" mentality; let alone, the existence of the word in any dictionary. Martin Luther King, Jr. had a dream and I have wishes.

Blackest vs. the not-so Black = N-word vs. African-American.

We divide ourselves. I recall being in the 7th grade when I first learned, that I was a "light-skinned" Black girl. Before then, I only knew "that" I was Black and stemmed from a Black family. Being labeled as such brought on a lot of confusion and the need to defend myself as a real Black girl, but why? 

How dare anyone discount my belonging to Blackness, simply because I have lighter skin? That's how I felt then and still, now. I'm more attracted to darker skin, however, Black is Black as far as I'm concerned.

I'm not mixed; both my parents: Black. It's not just "something" I identify as. "It" is how I was born.

One of my childhood bestfriend's is a dark-skinned chocolate beauty. I used to have a hard time believing her when she said her mother treated her lighter-skinned siblings better. Until, her children shared their own experiences with me about how differently they're treated by their grandmother. "It" seems unreal, but unfortunately, it is and her family isn't the only Black family guilty of influencing the division present in our culture.

Black people are an ethnic group. African-Americans are those whom haven't traced their roots of origin, but were born here in America and simply accept the identifier-label as a Black individual. The exception: Africans born to American parents or those who are actually mixed, having one African parent and the other, American. All Black folks regardless of their origin, were referred to as "N-words" at some point in history and even in some cases still, today. 

Do I use the "N-word?" When speaking in slang, which is my native tongue, and only in conversations with people who comprehend my language. For others, I'm aware "it" offends, therefore, I exercise courtesy and consideration of their feelings by refraining from using "it" in their presence. 

Words are as powerful as we make them and allow them to be. I am much more concerned with how people treat me versus what's said. Words have meanings, but don't define anything substantial without action.

Back to the "N-word?" I had an argument a few years ago with a man I was dating who tried to convince me, that there's a difference between a "N-word" and being Black. In a nutshell, all the examples he used to make references to what a "N-word" is offended me on several levels because I fell into some of those categories. He wasn't bold enough to say "it" to me directly, but he insinuated that "N-words" come from disadvantaged backgrounds, generations of ignorance, and aren't capable of acclimation. Remember, slang is my native tongue so what he was attempting to state or how I interpreted "it" was simply, that "N-words" come from, live-in and act "ghetto." Not Black people.

...To be continued on Day 2.

 

Fear GOD. Only!

What are you afraid of scary?

It's kind of weird that I find myself more fearfully-reactive towards bugs than human beings. I wish that I didn't feel fear, but sometimes I do. It must stem from not knowing what might happen. In church, we refer to this as a lack of FAITH!

As I mature, I'm noticing that my compassion for all life-forms is growing. Now don't get me wrong, because I'm not very knowledgeable about various insects, as a defense mechanism I do find it necessary to get them out (by any means necessary). Blame my ignorance for killing the spiders, roaches and unidentified bugs that enter my home. Outdoors: Bugs worry not.

In my mid 20s, I was experiencing fear of failure. I felt trapped in an occupation that I lost respect for, but at that time I saw no easy way out. My problem was that I was scared to take a chance without knowing the outcome. I had become so used to my routine that it was difficult imagining a better one or better yet, taking the risk with creating a new agenda for myself.

I feel born again. I've reached a point in my life where being able to recognize an issue by my willingness to acknowledge it, has helped me learn how to resolve and move on. Fear no longer disables me because I refuse to give it life.

We all get spooked sometimes, but don't let fear rule you!

At age 33, I can say with confidence that I know what my real problem in this life has been. It's the fear. The fear that need not exist because I should only have it for GOD.