“I can’t do this anymore, it’s over”.
“What?” I heard him properly the first time but was still shock from hearing it. My ears burned because of my growing anger and the emotionless phase sent through them. I mean, I was everything he asked for. Every day, I tried to be the perfect girlfriend, the perfect potiental wife but that proved to not be enough. Or maybe it was too much. He rambled on about life and the current state of our relationship but it all went over my head. He was leaving me? For who? What is better? Who is better? What is he thinking? Those and a million other questions were bouncing around in my head while I watched my now ex get his things and leave.
“I’ll mess up a good thing if you let me”.
I sat back like a nosy but confused friend as I watched decent men leave exceptional women (aka my friends). Why didn’t they love themselves? Why were they sending amazing women back in the world? Again, why didn’t they love themselves? Why were they going out of their way to sabotage something that was good? Why did they have everything they desired/asked for yet they let it go? Fear of love, being “young”, not being ready and numerous of other reasons were eventually heard by the women they left with no real reason given. It all boiled down to the fact that they were okay with letting the best women in their lives go.
And that was just fine.
I realized that in order for the best men to enter our lives, those guys had to go Eric Bénet. They had to let go of the best women in their lives because they couldn’t be the best man for her. They needed to move along and out of the way so that the right guy could see her. Be with her. Love her down.
For the guys that went Eric Bénet, thank you playa.
Your girl has been thirty for almost a month now.
I was seriously waiting for thirty at the door with the patience of a toddler. I’ve been ready to hit thirty ever since I turned twenty-seven. There is something defining about turning thirty. It means that you no longer entertain or deal with the childish drama from your twenties but you also have to GROW THE HELL UP (if you haven’t already). You get way fewer excuses/passes thrown your way. Nobody wants to justify your ridiculous behavior, they expect you to know better. You will hear people talk about a lightbulb that clicks on when you turn thirty and I’m here to tell that lightbulb clicks on loudly and it is dramatically bright.
My light bulb clicked on for me when I realized how much I truly don’t care about the same things that use to drive me crazy. I can’t even begin to conjure up the energy it takes to deal with annoying men, drama-loving women or situations that don’t benefit me and mine. I rather just say “I’m old and I don’t feel like it” and keep it moving. The light bulb was basically an ‘aha’ moment as I realized that I should have NEVER cared about those type of people or those type of situations. It’s like my mind realized that I don’t actually have to spend my days dealing with people/situations that annoy my soul. It’s my life! Why spend it getting wrinkles and gray hair early because I want to entertain things that have nothing to do with my purpose or passion(s)?
I will always cherish the lessons I learned during my twenties and also the good and bad experiences I lived through. But it’s over for my twenties so I’m looking forward to whatever my thirties have in store for me. Hopefully, that involves a bestseller and a family but hey who knows!
When I first started running through the streets of NYC as a beginning “distance runner”, I was intimidated. I mean INTIMIDATED. Here I was, attempting to run alongside people who made running look effortless. Soooo unlike myself, whose face consistently showed my desperation to stop and never run again. They were decked out in either Nike’s latest running gear or their infamous run club’s attire while discussing crushing PRs (personal records). When I ran by myself through my neighborhood, I was in my zone. My music was turned up, I breezed past the blocks like I was chasing the ice cream man and I felt like a “real runner”. But when I joined the group runs, I was back to feeling like I didn’t belong. Continue reading
Taraji taught me how to cheer for my fellow sister.
I was proud of her. I honestly and truly was proud of her promotion. She worked hard for the last 8 months for that promotion and I wanted to cheer her on and congratulate her. But I was in my feelings, busy looking at myself and wondering why I wasn’t flourishing like her. I made up a lame excuse for why I couldn’t make it to her celebration dinner with the promise that I would make it up. I wanted to give her all my love and support but I was standing still. I didn’t have any accomplishment to celebrate or fresh news to discuss. I was in the same spot I was in when she started her quest for a promotion and now we were on two different levels. It wasn’t her fault but I didn’t show up for her and it wasn’t fair. I needed to check myself because no one wants the jealous, hating friend that can’t celebrate her friend’s wins. Continue reading
Let me go ahead and say this now: I am a Cardi B stan.
I learned about Cardi B when I was late-night scrolling through Instagram in search of something to aid my insomnia. I spotted a video of a woman with long nails and orange hair and I ended up watching every single one of her videos. I learned that I was late to the game when it came to Cardi. She was quickly growing as an Instagram personality who made videos joking about the strip club or telling off people that wasted their time leaving negative comments on her pictures and videos. She didn’t care about sounding politically correct or whether you liked her thick Bronx accent. She just liked making people laugh while being her regular, authentic self. Since discovering Cardi, I have picked up three lessons from her and her rise to fame.
| Melanin Girl Gang | Issa Rae, Aja Naomi King, Yara Shahidi & Janelle Monae
(Auntie in my head) Viola Davis is one of my favorite actresses. I adore how she gives familiarity to every character she plays. I wanted to be her in How To Get Away With Murder, I despised her in Suicide Squad and I cried with her in The Help. She is amazing and greatly humbled in her position in Hollywood. She effortlessly juggles between using her platform to defend and support the arts and encourage people of color to strive in the face of doubt. This year she became the first black actor/actress to earn an Emmy, Tony, and Oscar and she is the most nominated black actress in history. On top of that, she strolled over to Harvard University to accept their artist of the year award. Can’t stop, won’t stop. While this may seem like I’m having a fangirl moment for her (I definitely am), I wanted to bring attention to the fact that black women are winning right now. In a MAJOR way.