Hope and Change 2013

Coming back to the DC area has been a renaissance of sorts for me.  Like the mythological phoenix that I have tattooed on my back, I am definitely in the process of rising from my ashes.  The old Tara is dying.  I am releasing all of the negativity, pain and anger that have consumed me for most of my life.  I am shedding that old, dull skin in favor of new vibrant skin.  I am learning how to be the beautiful phoenix that soars and not just the one who keeps dying and being reborn.  I am learning how to live beautiful.  I am learning how to have faith.  Not religion but faith.  I am working on creating a wonderful relationship with God.  Well, the relationship has always been there since He created me.  I’m just learning how to appreciate it.  I’m learning how to live up to my end of the bargain.  For awhile God has been reaching out to me and I shied away due to emotional trauma and organized religion (church) related baggage.  It took some special people to remind me that it’s about the relationship first and foremost.

I am also working on forgiving myself for past mistakes.  I am my biggest critic!  I envision that my life should have been more cut and dry or more in line with “the right way” of doing things.  What is the right way?  I had to stop and take stock of that.  Yes, I’ve been married more than once.  At least I’m trying to get it right!  Yes, I had a child out of wedlock.  Well, that was God’s plan because my child saved my life and helped me to become a better person.    Yes, I’m 34 and I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up.  I’m grateful for my “good gubment job”.  But I feel that I should be doing something else.   In the past I have allowed others to make me feel guilty about my decisions and the life that I led.  I allowed others to make me feel like a pariah or even the woman at the well when that wasn’t warranted.  That is not my reality.  I am not a cancer.  I am not a deviant.  I am me.  My decisions and journey have shaped who I am.  Because of my past I can create a better future for me, my daughter and other girls and women. 

I know that my new path will be difficult.  I know that I will have to make some tough decisions.  Not everyone will be supportive of my new life.  Not everyone will be conducive to my growth.  So I’m going to have to sever some ties or distance myself from those who are negative.  Unfortunately, it may be those who are in my family who may become casualties of my growth.  I am preparing for that.  I’m preparing for a new approach to my marriage and motherhood.  But I’m trusting in God and allowing Him to create a template for me to follow.  He knows me better than I know myself so He is the best choice to guide me.

I will still have my cussing spirit.  For awhile.  I will still listen to hip-hop.  Maybe not all of it.  I will still enjoy my drinks.  I am a work in progress.  I am evolving.

I miss my friends in Virginia.  But it was time for me to go.  I don’t think that I could have attained this transformation there.  There are too many forces there that are counterproductive and life draining.  I needed a fresh start in a familiar place.  I’m supposed to be here at this time.

I am blessed!  I am loved!  I am a survivor!  I am a success!  I am not an accident!  I AM ME!

Be Encouraged

I know that it’s been a while since I have blogged.  Yes, the love-hate relationship with words continues.  No matter how hard I try to exorcise writing, it keeps creeping back into my being.  I tried to replace it with sewing and other activities but it just won’t relinquish its grip on me.  So today I decided to give in and write.

Today I walked into the Ladies’ restroom at work and was greeted with a familiar sight.  There was a woman standing at the sink rinsing out little pumps.  I was able to identify those little suckers immediately.  She was rinsing out breast pumps.  I said to her, “Boy do I remember those days”!  I watched as her face lit up with the realization that she was among a kindred spirit.  So we chatted about breastfeeding a bit.  She told me that she hates pumping in the little alcove in the restroom.  I have to admit.  It is dark and semi-private.  I would hate it too.  She was new to my building and came from a building where she a comfortable office in which to pump.  She asked how long I nursed my daughter (who is now 11) and I told her six months.  She told me that her son is 6 months and weighs 18 pounds. 

So I did what it seems I always do.  I gave her a verbal high five.  I encouraged her.  I told her that it’s wonderful that her son has been breastfed exclusively and is so healthy.  I told her to keep up the good work.  I also told her that my 11 years rarely gets sick and I attribute that to being breastfed for six months.  That gave her hope.  We chatted about how difficult breastfeeding is.  I reiterated that her hard work is going to pay off in the long run.

Let me be honest.  Today, I feel like crap.  I had to drag myself out of the bed in order to come to work.  Unfortunately that has been the case the last few weeks.  I’m working on some things but it’s a process.  But I realize that I came out of my fog long enough to encourage a woman I have never met.  I may not see her again as my building is pretty big.  But in that moment, however I was feeling was secondary to giving this nursing mom a verbal high five.  I hope that it helps make breastfeeding a little easier for her.  I wanted to let her know that she isn’t alone and that she is doing an amazing thing for her son.

This type of behavior is pretty typical for me it seems.  My big sister pointed it out to me when I told her what I told my brother-in-law who is incarcerated.  He recently received his GED.  I told him that I was very proud of him.  I encouraged him and told him to keep up the good work.  She thought that was magnanimous of me.  I didn’t see the big deal.  She explained that I was encouraging someone I had never met.  True, I have never met my brother in law.  Yes, he was pleased that I mentioned his accomplishment.  But that’s just me.  I guess that how God made me. 

My colleagues list among my strengths my ability to see the good in others.  They say that I’m very good at making people feel good.  They also say that I identify people’s strengths.  That embarrassed me a little I must admit.  But I was surprised to know that this is who others view me.  To me, I’m just being me.

I think that it’s nice to hear a compliment from someone.  I also think that it’s important for people to know that there is someone out there who can relate to whatever they care going through.  Sometimes that can be the difference between life and death.  Literally.  You never know what a person has been through that day.  One kind word or an encouraging sentiment can go a long way.

Quite honestly, it makes me feel good to put a smile on someone’s face.  There is a certain joy in knowing that you can use words in a way that validates someone else.  I’m blessed to have the gift of communication.  Although I do admit that I don’t always use it in my favor.

Passion Lost

Pursuing one’s passion should be effortless.  It should be something done second only to breathing.  It should not be work nor should it require discipline.

People who genuinely pursue their passion immerse themselves in their craft constantly.  Hours gently shift into days when one is creating.  Musicians have often played for hours at sheds or concerts.  Their love of music supersedes the need for sleep.  Painters often collapse from exhaustion unwillingly when they are in the throes of a creative trance.

So if writing is my passion why do I often forgo writing in favor of watching television or surfing the internet.  My red sofa is more familiar to me than the keyboard of my laptop.  My only typing limited to the name of a website or a Google search term.  I’d much rather watch a movie on the Hallmark network than to bring my own imagination to life.

My mentor at work tells me that I have a gift and I’m wasting it.  He tells me that many people struggle to conjure what was given to me by God.  He tells me that I have so much promise and the ability to make money with the stroke of keys or a blot of ink.  I don’t even need money for a business start up.  My business would require no overhead and profit as soon as the first manuscript is accepted.  Out of a five day work week, I think he tells me this all five days.

I wish that it were that easy.  I wish that I could awake before the sun, start up my laptop and write well into the early hours of the next day.  I wish that I would have to set reminders for eating.   I wish that bathroom breaks would be unwelcomed.  But it’s not that easy for me.

When I was a child I would incessantly.  Writing was my escape.  Writing was my friend.  Writing didn’t judge or tease me.  Writing didn’t care what I wore.  Or that I was a nerd.  Or that I had big glasses.  Writing was mine.  I would sleep a lot because sleeping would enable me to create stories in my head.  As an adult I still find myself going to bed just to allow my imagination to create.  It was solace in a difficult world.

As an adult, I write sporadically.  I started a blog to encourage me to write.  Well I’m lucky if I can churn out one entry in a month.  This year, 2012, is the first year that I have written consistently.  Consistently meaning actually writing.  For years I have floated through without writing more than a Facebook status.  I called it a mean case of writer’s block.  I didn’t want to think about writing.  In fact I loathed the very idea of doing so.

What I don’t understand is why.  Why is something that used to be so much part of me so distant from me now?  Why do I no longer take comfort in turning words in poetry and prose?  Why is it a chore?  Why do I now have to be disciplined in order to create?

These are questions to which I have to find answers.  I believe if I can figure out what happened and why my relationship with writing is so strained, I will be able to write consistently and well again.

My friend/writing coach/writing group leader is helping me on this journey.  She tells me that I have to take one step at a time.  I have to start small.  Start by writing a little something every day or every other day and build up. 

But I have to want to do it.  I have to find the will.  I have to find my voice and keep it this time.

Pursuit of Happiness

Today my sister told me that she wants me to be happy.  She said that she doesn’t think that I’m happy and that troubles her. 

Of course I had to do what every nerd and word lover does.  I looked up the definition of happiness.  Merriam-Webster’s dictionary defines happiness as a state of well-being and contentment. 

Am I not in a state of well-being?  Am I not content?  Well, quite frankly the answer is emphatically, no. 

On the exterior, I have the makings of a great life.  I am a degreed professional with a car, my own place and a little extra money for toys.  I don’t have a criminal record nor do I have multiple baby daddies.  I have been blessed enough to be able to travel.  I have great family and friends.

So what is it?  Well, for starters, I’m still trying to “find” myself.  I’m still trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up.  I have a steady job that pays me well but it’s just a job.  I don’t have any passion for it. 

I don’t really know what I should be doing career wise.  When I finished planning school, I was full of ideas and insight on how to improve the built environment.  I was idealistic and passionate.  I was excited by my new knowledge and fresh degree.

Between May 2007 and now something has gone terribly wrong.  My idealism and passion has turned into a sickening shade of jade.  I can no longer see the world with promise.  It is now gray and deliberate. 

I now question what I’m really supposed to do.  I believe that part of my problem is the fact that I followed the money instead of the passion.  I chose to stay where I was because it was a secure job with promotion potential.  For quite awhile now I have been regretting that decision.

I know what I’m currently doing isn’t going to ride me into retirement.  I’m only in my 30s so I’m sure that I will change jobs a number of times in the next 30 years.  Part of me thinks that I should keep the job and get the career when I retire.  The other part of me wants to feel that I have made a significant impact at the end of the day.

My mentor believes that I need to write.  In fact he has told me on many occasions that he envies my gift.  He told me that if I don’t use it I will lose it.

So, career wise what should I be doing?  I think that the fact that I cannot answer that question honestly causes me the most distress. 

In addition to my career woes, I have internal issues.  I have made a lot of mistakes and missteps in my life.  I have walked into a lot of walls although loved ones tried to help steer me in the right direction.  I have cried a lot of tears and caused a lot of tongues to “tsk”.

As a result, I question every decision and decision making in general causes me great anxiety.  I’m so afraid to have a setback or make a mistake that I’m not really living.  I don’t really trust myself to live.  Living is what caused me to go awry.  Well, living and not making good decisions is what really did it.

So now that I’m on the other side, I’m struggling with how to forgive myself.  How can I move forward emotionally?  I keep trying to tell myself that everyone makes mistakes.  But for some strange reason it seems that I hold myself to higher standards than others.  Who do I think I am?  Jesus?  God?

So I made mistakes.  Who hasn’t?  I had quite a few youthful indiscretions.   So?  In the words of the great Kanye West, “That that don’t kill me will only make me stronger…”  I’m not dead so I’m guessing that I’m pretty strong.

I need to find my happiness within.  But I’m not really sure about how to go about it.  As a Christian, my faith should lead the way.  I have prayed and I have vowed to let things go but so far I have been unsuccessful.  Does that mean I need to pray harder?

I think that I need to close my eyes and my ears and just feel.  I also need to trust that God will send me where I’m supposed to go.  He created me so he knows all of my nuances and quirks.  Who better to chart my path than my Creator?

Pursuing happiness is not easy.  I know that it will require a lot of soul searching, trust and patience.  I’m going to have to learn how to let go.  Plain and simple.  I will find my right career.  I will learn how to trust myself.  I will forgive myself.  Only when I let go and just breathe will I be open to getting to a place of contentment and wellbeing.

Catch a Dream

For my freshman year of college, I attended Florida A&M University (FAMU) in Tallahassee, Florida.  There I met an amazing group of young, idealistic African Americans.  I am pleased to say that although they may not be young any longer idealism and the theme of following one’s dreams still holds true.

L.Allen is the brainchild of Lawrence Allen, who was one of the members of the aforementioned group.  L. Allen is Lawrence’s fashion company.  Although he did not complete his studies at FAMU, he is now pursuing a degree in fashion design at Florida State University. 

I had the esteemed pleasure of attending L. Allen’s annual fundraiser, Fashion’s Fight, for the American Cancer Society to benefit breast cancer on April 13, 2012.  The show exceeded any expectations that I thought I had.  It was an amazing showcase and a testament to Lawrence’s perseverance and raw talent.

Before I continue extolling the virtues of my friend Lawrence, let me say that this benefit show was bittersweet for me.  Less than a month ago, I lost my second cousin, Kieya Hyman to breast cancer.  She was only 29.  I’m usually pretty stoic when it comes to death but I must say that I have struggled with her death.  Not a day goes by without me thinking of her. 

The idea that Lawrence dedicated his beloved craft to raising money for such a cause touched me tremendously.  The show was well executed by the staff of L. Allen and very well received by the audience.  I was very excited to learn that I was not the only person who had traveled from out of town to attend.  In fact, Lawrence’s family came from Orlando and other supporters came from as far away as Boston.

It was in essence my first real fashion show and I felt like I was at Fashion Week.  L. Allen had vendors lined up that graciously provided food, freebies or gift certificates.  The crowd was enthusiastic and openly applauded their favorite designers and models.  I was surprised to learn that stores such as White House Black Market and BCBG had lent merchandise for the event. 

Attending the fashion show reaffirmed some important lessons for me.   It highlighted the importance of identifying your dream and chasing after it tirelessly.  Lawrence and other members of his inner circle proved that. 

Demetrius, Lawrence’s fraternity brother and friend, was at the show volunteering as an usher.  I was pleased to learn that Demetrius was living out his dream by teaching martial arts.  He told me that it was in fact Lawrence who got him started in martial arts when they were students at FAMU.

Lawrence’s roommate at FAMU, who volunteered to be a photographer, is now working with the sheriff’s department.  He regaled us with tales about going undercover and other facets of police work.

Although they didn’t complete their degrees, they were clearly happy and working in careers that they loved.  I must admit, I did envy them.  I have two degrees and I dread going to work.  I went to college and graduate school for a total of 7.5 years and I know that my career choice doesn’t elicit a tenth of the contentment that I saw expressed in their faces as they described their jobs.  There is something to be said about following your dreams.

I can honestly say that I didn’t have the courage to do that.  I wanted a steady 9-5 with finite pay days and structure.  I decided against taking a pay cut to do what I was most passionate about doing.  I followed the money instead of following my heart.  So I always admire people who have the wherewithal to dream chase and attain.

I’m hoping that one day I will stop paper chasing and start passion chasing.  In the meantime I will continue to wholeheartedly support those who do and secretly or not so secretly covet from afar.

Please support my friend Lawrence and his company L.Allen in the fight against breast cancer.  Fashion’s Fight is an annual event.

Devil's Advocate: In Defense of Segregation

I'm going to make a very controversial statement.  I'm not sure that desegregation was really a good thing.  Now before everyone of color labels me crazy or something worse, let me plead my case.

My mother grew up in a town in Northeastern North Carolina during the height of Jim Crow.  She attended segregrated schools and graduated from high school in a building that once housed an all white high school.  She told me that the school building was passed down to the them when a new school was built for the whites. 

In spite of the limitations that were place upon them, my mother and her classmates received a first rate education.  Mom can still recite things that she learned in high school.  One of her favorite things to recite is Lady MacBeth's sololiquy from Shakespeare's MacBeth. 

My mother is 71 years old.  Sometimes she can't remember what she did on the previous day.  But she remembers most of what she learned in school.

My aunt is in her eighties and she can recite "Crossing the Bar" by Alfred, Lord Tennyson.  My mother said that my aunt recited this poem beautifully and accurately.  She learned this poem in high school.

Mom also expressed her discontent with the fact that today's students do not recite their speeches.  She proudly told me that in her day, one had to recite his or her speech regardless of the length. She scoffed, "How does it look for the valedictorian, number one in the class to read a speech?" 

Well Mom, today's students are not like the students in your day.  There are so many factors that go into making this true. 

For one, there is a lack of community.  In the segregated community, everyone looked out for everyone.  Everyone's children belonged to everyone.  Everyone's business was well, everyone's business. 

The Black or Negro community was self sustaining.  All of the professionals (i.e. teachers, doctors and lawyers) were Black.  The storeowner was Black.  Even the elected officials were Black.  Blacks were forced rely on themselves because they were not welcome to mingle in any way with Whites.  They knew that they had to stick together in order to be a united front in the face of adversity.

Education was different.  Black teachers knew that their students had to be better, smarter, and work harder than their white counterparts.  So despite limited resources, they made sure that their students received the best education.  They took a personal interest in their students because they could identify with them. 

At the same time, the community supported the teachers.  My mother said that if someone acted out in school that they would be disciplined by neighbors on their way home and of course further disciplined by their parents once the child got into the house.  The teaching profession was well respected and the teacher was looked at as an intrigal part of the community.  Teachers didn't teach to a test but instead equipped their students with the tools necessary to be functional members of society.

Black people had more of a sense of community because they were forced to do so.  They had no choice but to stick together in the face of adversity.  Strength was in numbers.  We worshipped together.  We celebrated together.  We grieved together.  We were together.

Now that black people are scattered due to desegregation, there is no longer that sense of community.  On the contrary.  Now the line that divides is socioeconomic.  Middle and upper class blacks are hesitant to associate with lower class blacks preferring instead to associate with their own. 

Now we have adopted more of the European worldview of self preservation which is in stark contrast to the African worldview of cooperation and community.  We focus on ourselves and our immediate families instead of our community as a whole.  We were more community oriented during slavery and Jim Crow.  Was that because we didn't have a choice?  Or was it because of our African roots? 

Either way it's sad to see that we have assimilated to our surroundings and we no longer place a great emphasis on the community.  It does lead me to wonder how our communities would have faired if education was indeed separate but equal.  If desegregation would have never occurred would our communities have remained strong?  Would we still have the same sense of community that we enjoyed for so many years?

I'm not saying that there weren't inherent evils in segregation.  Any policy based on the domination of one race over is wrong.  I do not want to desecrate the memory of those who died fighting for equal rights.  But I do believe that desegregation had a major part in the decimation of the black community.

Perhaps this will be a catalyst for the discussion on the state of our community and how we can recapture some of the elements that once made us great.

Passion Fruit for the Soul

My daughter Amadi has declared that she wishes to become a professional soccer player.  I'm not sure if I should have dissuaded her and instead lobbied for a more predictable, profitable professional.  I'm guessing that there are some parents out there who would have done just that.  But I chose another path.

I encouraged her decision.  I know that she will probably change her career choice at least twenty times before she actually has to choose a major.  So there are some who may say that I was right to indulge her because it won't stick.  But even if it does stick, I will still encourage her. 

I want my daughter to follow her passion.  I want her to wake up every morning excited about going to work.  I don't want her to be 33 years old and still trying to figure out what she wants to do with the rest of her life.  My only stipulation is that she gets a degree in something.

Being a professional soccer player isn't so bad.  She'll get an opportunity to see the world and be in great physical shape.

Before she aspired to be a professional soccer player, Amadi wanted to be a firefighter.  I was fine with that as well.  My 10 year old is a thrill seeker with a heart of gold.  Her favorite pastime, aside from soccer, is doing back flips off of the sofa in the family room.  She also loves to do things will little people and seniors.  She wants to have an adrenaline rush and help people.  I was great with that.  So I started researching degrees in Fire Science. 

Now that she wants to be the future Abby Wambach, I can research sports related degrees.  I want her to pursue her passion but I believe that it's important for her to have a back-up plan related to that passion.  So even if the professional soccer thing doesn't pan out she can coach soccer and be a Physical Education teacher or even a trainer.

Being 33 and at a career crossroads has helped me to approach Amadi's rearing a little different.  I don't want her to be like me.  I don't want her trying to still figure out things years after obtaining her undergraduate degree.

At an early age I had a passion for politics.  My earliest memory of participating in the democratic process is the Bush-Dukakis presidential race in 1988.  I remember telling my mother that I didn't know why she was voting for Dukakis because he wasn't going to win.  It seems I had followed all of the polling and news coverage on the race.  That Election Night, I stayed up late to watch the returns.  Of course George Bush was the victor.

From then on, my mother would take me to vote with her.  She would take me into the polling booth and I would pull the levers for her.  This was after I advised her on the candidates and their platforms.  I never missed an Election Day.  I was jubilant when I turned 18 and was able to vote on my own.

Until this day, I still get calls from family members asking for voting advice.  They know that I keep up with the issues and I thoroughly research platforms.

So why did I major in English?  Why didn't I major in Political Science?  Simply put, my mother didn't know how to channel my passion into a career.  She had no idea that I could have been a Congressional Staffer, a political writer, a policy researcher etc. etc.  Unfortunately, I came of age in the pre-internet era so it wasn't as simple as performing a Google search.

My mother is the daughter of sharecroppers so in her defense, she had no idea how to encourage my vocational pursuits.  She only knew that it was immensely important for me to go to college.  I did that and went on to obtain a Master's degree in City and Regional Planning.  Somewhat political but not quite.

By the time I pursued my Master's I was already working in my second career as a government employee.  I taught English for three years and after burning out quickly, I took a random job with the government.  While working for the government I wanted to get a Master's in something related.  Public Administration didn't appeal to me so I chose Urban Planning.  While in planning school, Katrina happened and I found a new passion.  I decided that I wanted to devote my life to helping people rebuild their communities after disasters.  I was so touched by the devastation and calamity of Katrina that I wanted to do something worthwhile.

Although I loved urban planning, I couldn't afford to take a pay cut as I was a single parent and already making good money.  Pursuing my new found passion, a job in disaster planning, would have required me to take a $20,000 pay cut.  That was a jump that I could not make.  So I decided to remain in the government and settle for something close.  My job as a facilities planner for the military is the closest that I will probably get until my daughter gets old enough for me to not have to focus so much on money (whenever that is).

Once again, I didn't follow a passion.  This time I knowingly walked away from a career because of financial reasons.  The first time was due to a lack of information and guidance.

If I had to live my life again with the wisdom that I have now, I would have pursued a career in politics.  If I would have done this right out of college, I would have been able to start at the entry level.  Any money made after scrapping by during four years of college would have been a boon.  I would have been able to satisfy my writing jones by penning articles and editorials.

But I can't go back in time (at least not yet).  I cannot relive my life.  But I can use the knowledge that I have gleaned to assist my daughter and others in making career choices.  I don't want my daughter to be complacent at work like I've become.  I want her to have a career and not a job.  I want her to be fulfilled.

So even if she decided that she wants to be a scuba diving instructor, or a cupcake baker or yes, even a basket weaver, I will support her decision and do everything in my power to ensure that she is informed about her career choice and educational options.  Her career choice will not grow out of a lack of information or compensation but it will grow out of her true passion.