To be young, gifted, and black....

I voted for the 1st time in my entire life this year…

A little back-story: I was raised very conservative Christian growing up, I was a preacher/minister and voting was seen as not trusting in God and His plans. So, I didn’t vote, I didn’t voice a political opinion, and I remained neutral every election. 

My revolutionary spirit was always present, always showing up throughout my life. I was the kid that would “take the spanking to do what I wanted”. Becoming a midwife was a revolutionary act, choosing to focus on the Black community and our reproductive health disparities was a revolutionary act. Choosing to give birth to my children at home was a revolutionary act. So I was always on my way to where I am now. 

So this year, WELL on the other side of divorce, single parenthood, birth center owner, and midwifery student preceptor, a major shift had taken place. It took work, an abundance of self love, sometimes therapy, meditation, lots of dancing and taking pride in a life I’ve created for myself and these three beautiful children I had given birth to.  

When this presidential election rolled around, to say I was concerned would be an understatement.  I quietly rooted for “The Bern”, and gave a little cheese to my homegirls that were fundraising for him. I even went to a couple fundraising dinners and events. When it became apparent that he wouldn’t be in the final running, I KNEW it was time…my ass HAD to VOTE! I wasn’t going to possibly face the WORST president in my lifetime and NOT have my say, I was gonna help keep him OUT of the white house!

I registered with a 68 year old Black woman named Doreen, in front of my local grocery store. She cried when I was finished and told me about getting spat on the first time she went to vote, and that she was proud of me. “We only have one option dear heart, so we have to support this woman we know and don’t trust.” 

I read articles about the propositions and measures; I used two media groups I respect to read about all the options. I made a list and went and did the damn thing, I voted. Where I was prepared for all of this to go any kind of way, I was not prepared for my children’s responses. 

The morning I had to tell my children that Trump had won the electoral votes and would more than likely be the president of the United States, it didn’t go well, at all. 

The youngest of my children is 5 years old, and she immediately started crying. “But Mama he’s a BAD BAD MAN, he touched peoples privates and says not nice things about my friends! He can’t be the president of the all the states!! Nooo MAMA!!”  

My middle son is 10 years old, he only knows Obama, that is his reality, his preference (for many reasons) and he is a child that does not like change. He came close and hugged me for what felt like an hour. Then he looked me dead in my eyes and asked, “Mama, is he gonna try and make us slaves again? Cause I would fight that”

My eldest is 12 years old, and he just quietly shook his head and asked if I would “do the sage before we go to school Mama?”

So I smudged them with sage, and I burned my sacred oils & resins. We sang along with Nina Simone’s “Young, Gifted, and Black” LOUD on the way to school with the windows rolled down. At a stop light on Crenshaw the cars next to us nodded, they understood and when I dropped them off we told each other how much we love each other and I told them “Be Brilliant!” I cried as soon as they were safely inside school.

I feel like my little pebble of a vote and my daily affirmations of empowerment to my children are making a difference. The presidential candidate I voted for didn’t “win”, and my children will continue to be Black children in America. A country full of people that show them every day they are of little to no value, and now a president elect that is supported by millions who will openly behave in such a way that will continue to support racism. 

Fortunately their mama is healer…with a machete, who will always FIGHT for their physical, emotional, spiritual well-being. They will ALWAYS KNOW they are #BlackExcellence and can be whatever they believe they want to be. 

How Being Diagnosed with Major Depression Made me the Happiest I've Ever Been In My Life

On February 29 also known as Leap Day, I got into my car and made a call to my best friend with the excitement of one getting a three-chair turnaround on The Voice.  “Guess who has ADHD and major depressive disorder with a side of acute anxiety? THIS girl!”  I yelled into the phone.  Chuckling, she replied, “Well alright! Umm…congratulations?” We both knew that this was a reason to celebrate because before this day, I had spent most of my life feeling like I was walking through the dark in a room full of cobwebs.  That is the best way I can describe living with an undiagnosed mental illness.  How could a person so passionate, bubbly and full of joy, wake up on some days and not find one good reason to get out of bed?  Why did the thought of accomplishing things render me with so much anxiety that there were many nights that I’d curl up in a ball full of fear and fall asleep with all of my clothes on?  For the longest time, I didn’t know why but on this day I officially got the answers. 

What led to this event was a very dark period that I experienced in fall 2013.  After dealing with depression off and on as a teenager, I was at the bottom of the deepest depression I had ever experienced.  It was so frightening that I didn’t want to explain it to anyone for fear that I would alarm them to the point of watching me around the clock.  I really couldn’t articulate what was happening honestly.  One day it was the end of the world and the next day I couldn’t remember what I was so upset about. I did all of this while keeping a beaming smile on my face, seemingly with enough life and laughter to fill up a room.  But inside I was drowning.  All I knew, or felt I knew, was that I was failing. I was letting everybody down because I could not “adult” properly. On a day I’d like to forget, I stood in my room barely able to hold myself up and cried, “I’m letting everyone down! I’m letting everybody down!” There was absolutely no one accusing me of this. In fact, I have such a great support system that I often heard the opposite.  But in my heart and mind I knew I was barely keeping my head above water. I pulled myself together enough to make a decision and that decision was to choose to live. It was at that point that I made a call to my parents telling them that I was moving back home to get healthy.  It was a call that saved my life. 

So a few months later after being on my own for 15 years, I pulled up to my parents’ home to begin my journey towards mental health.  I can’t really explain how humbling it is to come home at the age of 40 to the very room you grew up in, Cabbage Patch Kids and all.  I got up to my room and saw that my parents’ had sweetly put a bouquet of flowers on my nightstand.  It reminded me of checking into a hospital room and essentially that was pretty much the case. I crawled into bed with the same sweats I drove in for 18 hours and had the most peaceful sleep of my entire life. Then the next day I got to work. 

I got to journaling and doing some serious introspection. I started asking God the tough questions that I needed to know about certain cycles and habits that plagued my life.  I spent nights under the covers with just the light of my phone journaling and crying out to God. “What is it that is keeping me from moving forward?” I sobbed late one night. I soon found out that God was never hiding any answers from me.  He was just waiting for me to give Him my attention long enough to give me the answers. 

The next day I was talking to a close friend of mine who found out that their boyfriend had ADHD.  “So this whole time I’m thinking he’s just forgetful and depressed and he has ADHD.”  “Wait what?” Say that again.”  She went on to tell me about the symptoms that made him want to get help and they sounded really familiar. I got off the phone to look up ADHD symptoms and was blown away.  It wasn’t at all what I thought it was: a made up disease used to explain away the reasons overactive children won’t sit down and listen.  It was much more complex than that.  After about a half hour of research, I read an essay by a woman describing what it felt like for her to have ADHD.  I burst into tears as she described my entire life.

“It’s the feeling of wanting to do everything and nothing at the exact same time.”

“It’s feeling like an imposter when there’s things you are really great at doing but deep down inside you feel stupid because you have trouble following directions.”

“It’s having a carousel of thoughts going on in your head that is constantly moving.”

I looked over my journal from the past year and knew that this had to be it. I had made an appointment with a doctor to get on medication that treated mainly depression and anxiety but it also treated ADHD.  Two days after going on medication, I was driving down the street with no radio on, hearing only the tires on the road. Tears fell from my eyes because it was the first time in my life that my mind had been completely silent. I was getting my answers. 

There was no doubt in my mind that trying to manage life while being unaware of having mental health challenges was what was keeping me from moving forward; I just needed a professional opinion to put a stamp of approval on my self diagnosis.  On February 29th, I went to a psychiatrist who asked me a number of questions.  At the end of her inquiries, she looked at me and smiled.  “Well, you can go on and celebrate because you definitely have ADHD.” My feet flew up in the air as I leaned back in the chair and rejoiced. It was the happiest moment of my entire life. 

There was a quote that I saw years ago that said, “Be who you are but know who that is.”  I am the happiest I have ever been in my life because I finally feel free to be who I am because I finally know who I am.  I know and finally understand my challenges. I know that I am not my challenges and that they don’t define me.  

Knowledge is power and the truth will definitely set you free.  Knowing and accepting who I am has empowered me to freely be myself.  There is no happier feeling in the world. 

14 Reasons (and counting) on why I love being a black woman...

I love being black. I love my skin... the color of it... the texture. I love how there is not one crayon that matches its brown pigment exactly. I love the various shades we as black women cover.  I love that our hair, a lot like our history, will not simply lay down... it rises...defying gravity...bucking against the weight of it all, and creates culture. I asked a few of my close friends, and all around amazing black women to share why they love being black, and why there's no place they would rather be than in this skin... 

"Black women were created of brown sugar and raw honey. Be wary of anyone who tells you otherwise." - Alex Elle 

"I love being black. I love being a black woman! I love my skin. It is rich, of color. I am a true child of the sun. I love the sun, and as a woman of color, I revel in the kiss of the sun, knowing it only deepens my complexion and warms and invigorates my soul!" - Kimberly Durdin
 

"From my hips to my lips I'm beautiful! From my eyes to my thighs I'm beautiful! From my hair to my hue I'm beautiful! My love, my laughter, my rhythm, my voice and my smile are embodiments of the original woman... and she is fearfully and wonderfully made. For that reason, black is the skin that I'm in... and it is awesome!" - Angela J. Williams

"As women, we are manifestations of grace, confidence, and class. Being black women's the exclamation point, the soul. We have a responsibility to carry ourselves in a way that not only uplifts ourselves, but our daughters, our sisters, our mother and grandmothers. Our history and our experiences, both individually and collectively, make us interesting, intricate, and powerful. Let us wear it like the light of the universe." - Jeanette Polynice

"Being a black woman is beautiful to me because we're phenomenal. Literally. Given all the countless obstacles that we're faced with, we always overcome them with resilience. We have this confidence, charisma, and elegance that's embedded in us from birth. We're beautiful. Being a black woman is something that I'm extremely proud of, and it shows by the way I speak, the way I move, and by the way I raise my children. I'm enamored by black women, and by the skin I'm in. I pray to God daily for allowing me to be this woman, to be a strong black woman, to be able to showing spread pride. Black women... Queens." - Courtney Warwick

"Because this is the skin that was created by my ancestors, and beneath it there is so much black wisdom, joy, pain and struggle. And to me, that is beautiful.. and when I look in the mirror that is what I see."  -Erica Chidi-Cohen

"Because I was created by an intentional, loving and perfect God and He chose the skin I would live in and so I wear it with pride knowing I've been fearfully and wonderfully made." - Venice Robinson

"I absolutely love my skin. It's one of the things that makes me feel confident. I also know that I've been given a unique opportunity (when traveling) to expose those who may not regularly be around black women to know what a real black women is like, as opposed to what may be portrayed of us on television and in media." -Anjelica Malone

"Being a black woman reminds me of being a badass unicorn. I feel unique, beautiful, powerful and hold unprecedented value. I love being black and feel every black woman should feel as powerful and valued as God created them to be." -Claudia DeMarco

"I believe it is a divine gift to be a black woman. I believe my spirit carries the strength of my ancestors. That alone gives me the ability to transcend beyond any barriers this world creates."    -Ashley Sirah Chea

"As a Black woman in America, I know ALL of the cards are stacked against me. Fiscally, socially... So waking up each morning filled with self love, hearing my children's laughter and reading aloud. Showing them how to grow food and eating healthy. Doing work I love with smart and empowered families. ALL of these things make my teeth white and cause me to joyfully laugh with my ENTIRE being 'cause my Black is beautifully beaming and succeeding!!!" -Racha Tahani Lawler

"Being born a black woman has allowed me to experience life in a way that I feel I could only get by being black. I've lived in the worst of ghettos to the most beautiful hotels on earth and all
the layers in between have given me the soulfulness that makes me me. I think my skin and my hair are expressions of what I've been thru in my life good and bad" -Brandee Harris  

"My mother taught me as a child that our African heritage is a gift. Why would I reject what I was born to be? I am a Black woman. My mother is a Black woman. My sisters are Black women. This is who I am, who we are, and I am so grateful." - Chika Roulet

Photo Credit: John Esparza




 

Turning Passion & Pain Into Purpose

My name is Siaba, i’m 28 years old and the founder of Boo.B.Smoothie. 
I first became pregnant at age 19 when I was in my second year of university. Mr B and I had been seeing each other on and off for about 8 months and then BAMM! I realized that I had not seen my period for a while (which was not strange because I had irregular periods.) So, just to be safe, I took a pregnancy test. He made it clear that he wasn’t ready to be a dad, and nor was I ready to be a mum. It still didn’t make the abortion any easier. Just before going into the operation room, I went on my knees and cried to God. I can’t even remember what I said. I just remember crying so hard and feeling so confused. I moaned for the baby  years after and was unable to come to terms with what happened. I fell into depression right after and gained a load of weight. Living away from home made it easy for my depression to go undetected. I guess I just grew out of it naturally.  After years of carrying the guilt around I went to see a therapist about the experience.  I Learned that I made a decision based on where I was and who I was at that time in my life and that it didn’t mean I would make the same decision again at a different time and age in my life. 

Fast forward to 2014, after a long term relationship some years earlier, I find myself in another casual relationship... This time with Mr D who I had been dating on and off for two years. On June 4th 2014, we found out I was pregnant. I was shocked but also excited. He was just shocked and depressed about the news. I didn’t understand why he was so unhappy about it. We were so close, almost like best friends (well so I thought ). Eventually he came around to the news by which point I was scared at the reality of becoming a mother but still excited.   That all changed when 3 days before I was due to give birth I found out he had been cheating on me the whole time we had dated. I’m talking from week 1!! My body went into shock due to the high level of stress I felt. I was 12 days over due with my son. The stress also affected my ability to make milk ( I found out later on from a lactation consultant). Nevertheless, I gave all that I could to adjusting to motherhood. Internally, however I was broken. BROKEN!!  As soon as I was alone I would cry, screamed into a pillow or just sleep hoping I would wake up and find out it was all just a bad dream. I just couldn’t make sense of it. The hurt consumed me, yet at the same time the joy of my son brought me peace. My feeling were so conflicted I felt like two different people. I kept my shit together when people were around because I didn’t want to worry my family and friends.   I felt tourn apart, but my innocent little baby didn’t know that. He just needed me to survive. Truth be told, I needed him even more.  I can honestly tell you that my son saved me. He gave me something to focus on, to wake up for and pull through each day. Adjusting to single parent life wasn’t difficult because I didn’t know anything else. It was just the way it was. 

The saying "every cloud has a silver lining" is definitely the case in this story. When I struggled to make breast milk my mum began feeding me certain African dishes and other foods that she had researched. Within a week of eating high volumes of the foods that my mum was feeding me, my milk supply picked up dramatically. I had so much milk I didn’t know what to do with it. It made me want to know more about the foods I had been eating and what made them so good for breastfeeding mothers. So my fascination grew the more I read and researched. It became a bit of an obsession, and it kept my mind away from the hurt and pain. Being able to breastfeed my son successfully built my confidence. It made me feel able and happy to see him grow so healthy and happy. I started using the ingredients known as Lactogenic ingredients to make smoothies because it was more convenient for me. When a friend of mine was experiencing low milk supply, I gave her a week supply of my lactation smoothies. After a week she called and said “what do you put in those smoothies? My boobs are engorged.  You should totally sell them to breastfeeding mothers”. The rest is history as they say. Boo.B.Smoothie is my second baby. I started this business with a £1000 tax rebate that came at the perfect time.

In one year,  i’ve gone from making and delivering fresh smoothies all over London, to now making and shipping powdered versions of the smoothies all over the world. My son and my business combined have given me all that I need to move on with my life. Am I still hurt? Yes!! Do I still cry at night? Not as much. Somehow I took all the hurt and pain of the last few years and channeled it into something good. I can’t explain the amazing feeling I feel when I receive messages and emails from women saying how the smoothies have helped them feed their babies and encouraged them to not give up. That’s the exact message I hope my story and Boo.B.Smoothie sends out. Don’t ever give up! Not on yourself or what you want.

Mothering... A Journey Of Healing Through Grief

It is never easy to lose a parent at an early age. Honestly, It is never easy for anyone to lose a parent no matter what the age. I was twenty-three when my mother passed from Cancer. Twenty-three with a three-year-old daughter. My mother, Kimberly, and I were always super close. She was my very first best friend. When I had my daughter, it seemed as though our relationship reached a whole new level. We now had motherhood in common... something more to share. My mom was the first person who saw the face of my daughter. Yes, even before me (I fell asleep on the table, that medicine was serious). I loved the relationship my daughter shared with my mom. Whenever we would come to visit from Tennessee, if you saw Kim you saw Chasi. Their relationship was really starting to bloom. My mom was teaching my daughter and I. Kim taught me so much about motherhood, womanhood, being a wife, and a successful woman. As a mother, always keep an open line of communication with your children. As a woman, don’t take crap from anybody and maintain sexy at all times. Maintaining a healthy marriage was important.  As a successful woman, business is business and you better handle yours if you want to eat. We had an absolutely wonderful relationship.

    So on July 10, 2012 when I found out that my mother had passed away, many emotions filled by body. I found myself in the days leading up to the funeral in a straight haze.  At this point, I was pretty much numb. During the funeral Greg, my biological father (aka my sperm donor) thought it would be a wonderful idea for him and his sisters to show up 21 years later to try to make amends. FYI, I let them know that they "tried my life" to the 10th degree. The days after the funeral, I found myself growing angry. I was mad! Mad at life, mad at family members, and honestly I was mad at my mom. She left me. Growing up my parents never wanted to tell my siblings and I bad news (or that somebody died) especially at night time. I guess they didn’t want us to dream about it or something. They would wait until the morning to tell us. I felt as though my parents still were trying to treat us like those little girls. I felt as though my parents knew more than they let on about the Cancer and it spreading throughout my mom’s body. So when she died, I felt blindsided. I felt as though those last 4 weeks were taken from me. I was pissed. I already don't have the best attitude when it comes to bull$@!&, and it went to a whole different level. I no longer cared. If you were somebody’s mother or grandmother try me if you want to. Anybody could get it! Straight up! Let’s just say that the "alternate personality" my mom use to encourage me to never reveal was in full effect. She always knew what was up, if I was provoked. My mom knew the real Cecili, and loved every part of me. 

    It’s been four years since my mommy passed away.  I am no longer mad at life. Trust me it took time. It has been hard not having my mom around, especially since I am a mother to a now seven-year-old kid. I do get upset when I think about the phone calls I can no longer make or the pictures and videos I can no longer send. I still feel like those last few weeks were stolen. However, with time, I had to realize my mom didn’t leave me willingly or purposely. I had to realize she didn’t leave this earth mad, so I better not live on this earth mad. I had to realize that she left me with great wisdom, love, and gratitude. I know my mom is putting in some major keys up there to God on my behalf. Everyday I see more of her in me. I am slowly morphing into her. I hear her when I pray with Chasi on the way to school, I even hear her when my boyfriend speaks. That woman is still everywhere. It’s amazing. 

    It doesn’t get easier, but it does get manageable. My suggestion to anyone dealing with the passing of a loved one allow yourself to grieve in your own way. Allow yourself to be mad, cry, scream, and shout. Whatever you need to do to get out your frustration do it. It’s normal and natural. With your grief however, allow yourself to heal and Go On. Unfortunately, life is not going to pause around you. Enjoy it because clearly nothing is promised. And as Kimberly would say, “Be the best you, you can be”.