Womanifesto
It is no secret that I love Jill Scott.
She writes the life and love soundtrack for the substantive woman of color’s biography. Her songs cross all spiritual, sensual, emotional, political, and socio-economic spectrums. If the black woman was to be comprehended by notes and lyrics, I would forward all inquiries to her anthology.
There’s a Jill Scott song for ever watershed moment in my life. Her most recent album proves to be no different.
This year, God told me that the sky would open up in my life. A number of the things I had been patient with His process on, would finally come to fruition. By the same token, a number of the things I needed to change about my life would be exposed, namely those things where my faith needed to be stretched and tested.
Over the last few months, I have been “released” literally and figuratively from things (and people) that held me in grossly expired bondage. To be exact, that bondage lasted for almost 10 years. I’ve been forced to confront my demons and secrets. I’ve been forced to take an honest look at myself naked and make up-less in the mirror. God pointed to my issues and trusted me to correct them.
I planted my feet and battled.
And when I woke, everything I went through was beautiful.
10.13.2011
6.20.2011
My Dad is a Verb
Yesterday was Father’s Day.
Sentimental oratorical tributes were in abundance on social networks. Secretly, I wanted to pull a Kanye and say, “Imma let y’all finish buuuuuuuut Stephen Bernard Hines is the best Dad, hands down, ya feel me?”
Maybe I’m biased.
Recently, I discovered that my dad reads my blog (what up, pop!). That would scare most girls at any age but my father knows his daughter and more importantly, knows what gene pool she came from. He understands my lady-like, often sarcastic, three dimensional personality. He knows that I drink and swear. But he also knows that I have a great heart and the best of intentions. I am blessed to have parents who never had any expectation of me other than to be myself. If anyone didn’t accept that, it was their fault.
I am a daddy’s girl in the best kind of way one can be a daddy’s girl. I am extremely self-sufficient and independent. I haven’t asked my father to help me financially in over 7 years. I turned out this way even though I can count on one hand the amount of times my father has told me, “no”.
My father was 20 when I was born. As you get older and live more kid-less years, you realize the gravity of that. Twenty. With a kid and a bonus 9 year old kid. I can’t say I’d be leaping with joy to enter into such situation but my father did. I’ve never asked him outright but I’m sure my father forfeited a lot of wild nights and dreams to support his family. And although quite mild-mannered and reserved, this fact has never caused anyone to question his ability to provide or his manhood.
When I was 7, my parents separated. Funny, but I wasn’t upset. I was relieved. I was a diplomatic and extremely observant child. I knew they weren’t happy. I knew that they married too young and because my mom was pregnant. I knew that outside influences had pervaded their union. I just wanted them to be at peace and happy. And if separation was the answer, it was the answer. And I also knew that my father’s physical separation from my household would not change his emotional or mental connection to his daughter.
I don’t mean to brag but I was right.
From 1980 – 1998, my father courted me.
We had a whirlwind father-daughter romance. And I adore this guy. He’s pretty fuggin’ awesome. It’s the type of stuff chick flicks are made of.
There was never a day I didn’t feel loved by my father.
My dad took me on dates until I was 18.
He opened doors.
He ordered my entree.
He brought me chicken soup and meds when I was ill.
He waited for hours after school in the car so I could have a social life.
He’s bailed me out.
He was rarely late.
He hugged me.
He kissed my forehead.
His eyes always told me I was beautiful, talented and smart.
He always caught my fall.
He disciplined me.
He counseled me.
He was everything a good father should be.
And he did all this with about two words a day. No, seriously, bruh doesn’t really talk.
I’m 31 years old now. I don’t necessarily “need” my father for these things anymore. And I don’t “need” them from any man I date but it is important that I see one quality about my father in them…
An insurmountable level of selflessness.
Selflessness takes years to develop in a relationship though. People aren’t typically selfless with you until they have reached a level of emotion in the relationship. But that doesn’t mean he can’t exhibit this in his relationships with friend and family members. Because of my dad’s more than redeemable qualities, I had a bit of a stepiphany yesterday.
I have NEVER seriously dated anyone who would not have made/is not a great father.
My father’s example of love, although coupled with minimal words, worked.
I guess what they say is true. Love is an action word.
And my dad is most definitely a verb.
Yesterday was Father’s Day.
Sentimental oratorical tributes were in abundance on social networks. Secretly, I wanted to pull a Kanye and say, “Imma let y’all finish buuuuuuuut Stephen Bernard Hines is the best Dad, hands down, ya feel me?”
Maybe I’m biased.
Recently, I discovered that my dad reads my blog (what up, pop!). That would scare most girls at any age but my father knows his daughter and more importantly, knows what gene pool she came from. He understands my lady-like, often sarcastic, three dimensional personality. He knows that I drink and swear. But he also knows that I have a great heart and the best of intentions. I am blessed to have parents who never had any expectation of me other than to be myself. If anyone didn’t accept that, it was their fault.
I am a daddy’s girl in the best kind of way one can be a daddy’s girl. I am extremely self-sufficient and independent. I haven’t asked my father to help me financially in over 7 years. I turned out this way even though I can count on one hand the amount of times my father has told me, “no”.
My father was 20 when I was born. As you get older and live more kid-less years, you realize the gravity of that. Twenty. With a kid and a bonus 9 year old kid. I can’t say I’d be leaping with joy to enter into such situation but my father did. I’ve never asked him outright but I’m sure my father forfeited a lot of wild nights and dreams to support his family. And although quite mild-mannered and reserved, this fact has never caused anyone to question his ability to provide or his manhood.
When I was 7, my parents separated. Funny, but I wasn’t upset. I was relieved. I was a diplomatic and extremely observant child. I knew they weren’t happy. I knew that they married too young and because my mom was pregnant. I knew that outside influences had pervaded their union. I just wanted them to be at peace and happy. And if separation was the answer, it was the answer. And I also knew that my father’s physical separation from my household would not change his emotional or mental connection to his daughter.
I don’t mean to brag but I was right.
From 1980 – 1998, my father courted me.
We had a whirlwind father-daughter romance. And I adore this guy. He’s pretty fuggin’ awesome. It’s the type of stuff chick flicks are made of.
There was never a day I didn’t feel loved by my father.
My dad took me on dates until I was 18.
He opened doors.
He ordered my entree.
He brought me chicken soup and meds when I was ill.
He waited for hours after school in the car so I could have a social life.
He’s bailed me out.
He was rarely late.
He hugged me.
He kissed my forehead.
His eyes always told me I was beautiful, talented and smart.
He always caught my fall.
He disciplined me.
He counseled me.
He was everything a good father should be.
And he did all this with about two words a day. No, seriously, bruh doesn’t really talk.
I’m 31 years old now. I don’t necessarily “need” my father for these things anymore. And I don’t “need” them from any man I date but it is important that I see one quality about my father in them…
An insurmountable level of selflessness.
Selflessness takes years to develop in a relationship though. People aren’t typically selfless with you until they have reached a level of emotion in the relationship. But that doesn’t mean he can’t exhibit this in his relationships with friend and family members. Because of my dad’s more than redeemable qualities, I had a bit of a stepiphany yesterday.
I have NEVER seriously dated anyone who would not have made/is not a great father.
My father’s example of love, although coupled with minimal words, worked.
I guess what they say is true. Love is an action word.
And my dad is most definitely a verb.
4.26.2011
Don’t Be No Fool, Pauline.
So my grandma nana had some pretty elaborate stories from when she was a young woman. Some seemed to stretch the truth a tad bit but I can imagine that when I tell my granddaughters about my misadventures, they’ll be seasoned with a little extra, as well. My nana would have these very open and transparent conversations with us about men and relationships. One of her favorite subjects was infidelity.
I won’t go into detail about my grandparents’ relationship but with a marriage that lasted until both of their deaths and started at the young ages of 15 and 19, respectively, there wasn’t a clean slate or the lack of eraser use. I think that’s why she constantly emphasized to us to keep God first and trust in man to be and do exactly what’s in his nature to be, Human. Likewise, we were to be honest and transparent with our own human nature. I’ve seen her counsel many a family member on how to move on from scars and failed expectations. Dare I say it, she was a much stronger woman than I. Trust, women from that era were cut from a different cloth. But that’s another blog for another day.
My Nana had this friend named Pauline. Pauline was married to a nice, young man who took great care of her as a provider. Pauline stayed home with the kids while he worked long, laborious hours. You could tell from Nana’s glare when she told Pauline’s story that she was quite fond of Pauline’s husband. She’d say he came from good stock. After a few years of marriage and a baby (or two), Pauline began to complain/ a lot, not pay much attention to her appearance or her housekeeping duties. Pauline’s husband, in turn, began to work longer hours. *side eye* So on a hot, summer morning in July, my Nana gets a call from Pauline saying she wants to “ride out” on her husband and needs reinforcement. Nana, Pauline and a third friend, Gertrude, hop in the car to catch Pauline’s husband in the act. As Nana would put it, “we went looking for something and we found it.” Pauline, indeed, finds her husband in the arms of another woman (referred to in this story as a nasty woman…interpret that as you wish). A huge domestic dispute erupts in the middle of the street. Pauline is frantically crying. Pauline’s husband, who Nana repeatedly refers to as a good guy who made a mistake, is distraught and apologetic. The nasty woman doesn’t say a word but Nana tells me that she recognizes her from a previous incident. My Nana and Miss Gertrude had witnessed this nasty woman beat the brakes off a lady at the market a few weeks prior, Orange Mound style. Pauline, loose with her language in the heat of the moment, says she’s leaving her husband and begins to berate the nasty woman. In an effort to defend herself, the nasty woman had quite the rebuttal. She began to tell Pauline about how Pauline had left the door open for her. The “nasty” woman made a decent living, cooked almost everyday, kept herself up and above all, had become a listening ear for Pauline’s husband. Naturally, Pauline became infuriated and began to take off her earrings and shoes. The nasty woman readied herself for the brawl. As Pauline began to walk toward the woman, a hand grabbed her elbow and pulled her back. It was soft spoken and gentile, Miss Gertrude.
“Don’t Be No Fool, Pauline.”
And just like that, it was over. That’s how my Nana always ended the story. No details on if Pauline and her husband reconciled or if Pauline and the nasty woman had it out in the streets. The story has and will always be open for interpretation.
But I will say, that every time we were reluctant to admit our own faults or were faced with inevitable emotional or physical defeat, my Nana would grab our hands and with a smirk say, “Don’t be no fool, Pauline.”
And in moments were we had the right to forge ahead with a decision even when faced with the above, she’d say, “I know I said don’t be no fool but I know you won’t be no damn fool,” and let us go.
Fool vs. Damn Fool? That is the question.
*smile*
So my grandma nana had some pretty elaborate stories from when she was a young woman. Some seemed to stretch the truth a tad bit but I can imagine that when I tell my granddaughters about my misadventures, they’ll be seasoned with a little extra, as well. My nana would have these very open and transparent conversations with us about men and relationships. One of her favorite subjects was infidelity.
I won’t go into detail about my grandparents’ relationship but with a marriage that lasted until both of their deaths and started at the young ages of 15 and 19, respectively, there wasn’t a clean slate or the lack of eraser use. I think that’s why she constantly emphasized to us to keep God first and trust in man to be and do exactly what’s in his nature to be, Human. Likewise, we were to be honest and transparent with our own human nature. I’ve seen her counsel many a family member on how to move on from scars and failed expectations. Dare I say it, she was a much stronger woman than I. Trust, women from that era were cut from a different cloth. But that’s another blog for another day.
My Nana had this friend named Pauline. Pauline was married to a nice, young man who took great care of her as a provider. Pauline stayed home with the kids while he worked long, laborious hours. You could tell from Nana’s glare when she told Pauline’s story that she was quite fond of Pauline’s husband. She’d say he came from good stock. After a few years of marriage and a baby (or two), Pauline began to complain/ a lot, not pay much attention to her appearance or her housekeeping duties. Pauline’s husband, in turn, began to work longer hours. *side eye* So on a hot, summer morning in July, my Nana gets a call from Pauline saying she wants to “ride out” on her husband and needs reinforcement. Nana, Pauline and a third friend, Gertrude, hop in the car to catch Pauline’s husband in the act. As Nana would put it, “we went looking for something and we found it.” Pauline, indeed, finds her husband in the arms of another woman (referred to in this story as a nasty woman…interpret that as you wish). A huge domestic dispute erupts in the middle of the street. Pauline is frantically crying. Pauline’s husband, who Nana repeatedly refers to as a good guy who made a mistake, is distraught and apologetic. The nasty woman doesn’t say a word but Nana tells me that she recognizes her from a previous incident. My Nana and Miss Gertrude had witnessed this nasty woman beat the brakes off a lady at the market a few weeks prior, Orange Mound style. Pauline, loose with her language in the heat of the moment, says she’s leaving her husband and begins to berate the nasty woman. In an effort to defend herself, the nasty woman had quite the rebuttal. She began to tell Pauline about how Pauline had left the door open for her. The “nasty” woman made a decent living, cooked almost everyday, kept herself up and above all, had become a listening ear for Pauline’s husband. Naturally, Pauline became infuriated and began to take off her earrings and shoes. The nasty woman readied herself for the brawl. As Pauline began to walk toward the woman, a hand grabbed her elbow and pulled her back. It was soft spoken and gentile, Miss Gertrude.
“Don’t Be No Fool, Pauline.”
And just like that, it was over. That’s how my Nana always ended the story. No details on if Pauline and her husband reconciled or if Pauline and the nasty woman had it out in the streets. The story has and will always be open for interpretation.
But I will say, that every time we were reluctant to admit our own faults or were faced with inevitable emotional or physical defeat, my Nana would grab our hands and with a smirk say, “Don’t be no fool, Pauline.”
And in moments were we had the right to forge ahead with a decision even when faced with the above, she’d say, “I know I said don’t be no fool but I know you won’t be no damn fool,” and let us go.
Fool vs. Damn Fool? That is the question.
*smile*
3.03.2011
MESSAGE
I recently purchased Death of Pop Star, a creative collaboration of David Banner and 9th Wonder. As a music junkie and a bit of a lyrical snob, I love the concept and the product. Unlike most, I still buy real CDs because I like to tangibly read the liner notes. Banner's sentiments struck such a chord in me that I had to share. Powerful message. Much respect. Sadly, this won't be televised or shouted from the mountain tops but it definitely served as self-edification.
Who you are at this very moment…who you have the potential to become…is being systematically threatened. Social networking, reality TV, and undisclosed rating systems have widened the invisible stage on which most of us live our lives. These “technological advances” herd us like sheep…silencing our voices, telling us what to think, and defining what is now considered social acceptable. Everything we say, everything we do, is played out before a not so visible crowd. Their applause, or lack thereof, plays to our vulnerability…it counts on our need to be liked and accepted, as a means on control…
When do we decide? When do we take a stand against the killing of our authentic selves…against the murder of our development? Our children are watching. They are studying us...imitating us as we glamorize the death of true manhood…rehearsing our stillness as we embrace the death of love, relationship and human decency. When do we decide to get off the stage, if only for a while, and evolve? When do we stop merely existing and live? There is something that each of us was created to do on this earth. Know that it is impossible to fulfill that purpose when consumed by who is watching and who approves. Don’t let the crowd kill the things that make you different…don’t participate in a self induced genocide with your silence. In the end its so much more that our music they’re after…Its our future…
I recently purchased Death of Pop Star, a creative collaboration of David Banner and 9th Wonder. As a music junkie and a bit of a lyrical snob, I love the concept and the product. Unlike most, I still buy real CDs because I like to tangibly read the liner notes. Banner's sentiments struck such a chord in me that I had to share. Powerful message. Much respect. Sadly, this won't be televised or shouted from the mountain tops but it definitely served as self-edification.
Who you are at this very moment…who you have the potential to become…is being systematically threatened. Social networking, reality TV, and undisclosed rating systems have widened the invisible stage on which most of us live our lives. These “technological advances” herd us like sheep…silencing our voices, telling us what to think, and defining what is now considered social acceptable. Everything we say, everything we do, is played out before a not so visible crowd. Their applause, or lack thereof, plays to our vulnerability…it counts on our need to be liked and accepted, as a means on control…
When do we decide? When do we take a stand against the killing of our authentic selves…against the murder of our development? Our children are watching. They are studying us...imitating us as we glamorize the death of true manhood…rehearsing our stillness as we embrace the death of love, relationship and human decency. When do we decide to get off the stage, if only for a while, and evolve? When do we stop merely existing and live? There is something that each of us was created to do on this earth. Know that it is impossible to fulfill that purpose when consumed by who is watching and who approves. Don’t let the crowd kill the things that make you different…don’t participate in a self induced genocide with your silence. In the end its so much more that our music they’re after…Its our future…
2.28.2011
Go girl, Its your birthday!
31 Favors: A Sweet Celebration of Giving
I am grateful that God has blessed me with another year to fulfill my purpose. And if I am being honest, I struggle everyday with exactly what that purpose is. However, one thing I am sure of is my ultimate goal: to embody the biblical definition of a virtuous woman.
Proverbs 31 is an important passage to all Christian women. So as my 31st birthday approaches, I felt my spirit move me to challenge my virtuosity with a selfless initiative. For the 31 days in March, I will challenge myself to do a “favor” for someone every day. Whether it’s a kind word, a hug, a small monetary donation or a chore, I will selflessly offer myself to the world for an entire month. I invite you to join me.
At the end of this month, I know my life will undoubtedly change. I’m anxious what lessons God may teach me through this initiative and how “paying it forward” will reverberate through my network of family and friends.
In celebration of my 31st birthday and in the spirit of Proverbs 31, I present to you 31 Favors: A Sweet Celebration of Giving.
Won’t you join me?
2.07.2011
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