Leading With Love and Compassion
This blog is for the individual that desires more of themselves + the people in their lives.
Join me on this thought-provoking journey as we explore the multifaceted landscape of perimenopause through the lens of identity, culture, and empowerment. Together, we'll shed light on the unspoken and share wisdom that transcends generations. It's time to rewrite the narrative and embrace the beauty and strength that comes with this transformative phase of life.
Read MoreThis picture is a moment of love. Deep love. Measured over moments of struggle + sometimes immense joy. I am learning to enjoy the view. Consume every moment of every second as I watch my daughter become a woman. As she emerges from the residue of trauma from two parents who collided without understanding the capacity of ushering an entire soul earth side. Its complicated! I wait patiently as she wonders will she be like me. I observe her as she begs Spirit to release her from the shackles of my life. I see her. I comfort her daily returning her to herself, the original design. I return to me as well….as I re-mother the broken parts of me.
Read MoreBeing a woman is birthed from so much pain. The resilience I carry in my stride has carried me through many moments in life. My body has ached from the things it has endured. I am so proud of it. I continue to look at all the ways the world has tried to put in me in a box just because of who I am. It won’t work; however I appreciate how hard society tells me to marry by a certain time + birth just enough children to keep me from ever seeing the light of day. I laugh at how the world embraces the notion that makes me subservient in every space. I never listen because I know that it doesn’t apply to me.
Read MoreWhen I see my daughter, I am humbled by her ability to carry the weight of peer pressure + being a middle -schooler like a 4-foot promise. Committed + occasionally drenched in momentary sadness; yet wearing her resilience like a finished sentence. On point + exact! She is everything I wanted to be but never had the space, bygones!
Read MoreWe love deeply because how else do you adore the woman that resembles your past; yet works hard to heal your future. I don’t know how after 15 years, distance, heartbreak, past lovers, mistakes, trauma, children, divorce + everything in between has kept us this in love. They say courting is not for bringing you together; but seeing if life can tear you apart. I would agree 100%! We see each other in ways that our parents didn’t get a chance to because of our father’s addiction. It’s complicated!
Read MoreI always wanted to loc my hair but I had to shed so much historical bondage around my hair. I used to get my hair pressed with a straightening comb which eventually lead me to perming my hair; yet it never yielded the response I wanted to feel...free. I dreaded the days that my hair ruled everything I did from working out, swimming, enjoying outdoors + even having sex. It’s complicated! I recall how men responded to my hair when it was straight + long; yet I never felt prettier, sexier, or more desired. Ironically, I felt like a replica of someone that needed to be noticed by people who didn’t matter.
Read MoreThis picture represents the beginning which started 9 years ago + by all accounts we shouldn’t be standing here unscathed + unbothered; yet thicker than thieves. We should not be unequivocally committed to our friendship, our children + remaining in each other’s life by any means necessary. Yet here we stand. Closer than most friends + people still wonder “what’s the catch?” The only thing we have managed to come up with is that God loved us so much that he entrusted us with each other + we accepted the mission. Most people wouldn’t, I get it + truthfully for a long time we didn’t want to stay in each other’s life. However, what we have cultivated is extremely bigger than US.
Read MoreThere are moments in life that seemed very different when I was younger + this is one of them. I imagined 40 to look ancient as I decide whether to wash another load of clothes or fix lunches with inconsequential utensils. I pictured myself being in a rat race most days virtually unrecognizable to myself. I visualized myself in a rut, nestled in marriage trying to dodge the 7-year itch + hanging with people who have amputated parts of themselves just to fit in. I envisioned dragging my children to activities as I listen to random people discuss parts of their life they hate. Then I hit 40 + I realized that this moment is more than I ever dreamed. In fact, at 40 I became more of a woman by allowing my scars to be the fuel to navigate my purpose. Actually, at 40 I fell more in love with myself by loving another human being from a perpetual space of forgiveness. If truth be told, at 40 I acknowledged that I hate cooking, I need intimacy at the same frequency as sex or nothing less + I am so grateful to love what I do every day. As a matter of fact, at 40 I recognized that I enjoy people who reflect goodness a hell of lot more than people who deplete my energy. Honestly, at 40 I liberated my children in a way that set us both free + gave me permission to be a woman. The truth is, at 40 I fell in love with me + the beautiful messy journey that got me to this point. Actually, at 40 I am resolved.
Read MoreTo understand gender one must consider the position of black women. The mere fact that we are the most under represented + under paid; yet the most educated informs us that the roots of sexism are founded in the same economic + political institutions that serve the foundation of racism. Daily we crawl from under the heartbreaking backdrops as we illuminate this earth shattering persona just to gain respect. Often assumed to be a single mother despite being betrothed while her relationship suffers as she over extends her participation to compete with women who have the luxury of not being in the labor force. It’s complicated! Overwhelmed with the realization of having to choose between being a mother or a wife in order to survive undermines the well-being of black families. Historically devaluing black women reinforces autonomous women while simultaneously promoting broken homes.
Read MoreRaising you + your brother has sometimes all at once been the most difficult thing I’ve ever done. It is still difficult, but I love it + sometimes all at once I cry because I love you for being so amazingly resilient. The things you give up as a parent are endless, from sleep, to just getting up + going, to hanging out when you want, to being able to have certain things to yourself + yet sometimes all at once you surrender your will + ego for the greater good. I fear that I have failed you, especially before I found myself because operating from my inner child was rough. I was petty, afraid, insecure at the ways that you loved me + I couldn’t quite love myself (not yet anyway) + then all at once you grew me up. I began to love you in ways that my mother couldn’t often being triggered by the ways that I still needed what I was giving you. It’s complicated! I tell you that sentiment often, because it is extremely complicated as I wonder will I have what it takes to give you the wings you need to soar + sometimes all at once you soar a little higher.
Read MoreWhen met with the daily task of parenting I am often reminded that all of life’s situations serve the purpose of your spiritual evolvement. However, when you are tasked go within yourself in search of the emotional lessons during a common reoccurring show down of parent vs kid; everything that happens to you is significant. Am I still parenting myself? Hell yes! Do I feel like I am a good parent considering all of my faults? Absolutely! Nevertheless, am I often triggered by parenting? Yes, yes, yes! To be honest, my children are growing me up. They are maturing me in ways that my childhood left no room for. The sad byproduct of a parent with unmet needs is the humbling realization that I can either be completely authentic or perpetually embarrassed. So I choose to respectfully surrender my wills to the power of accepting myself (flaws + all) so that I can selflessly accept my children in all of their wonderful glory.
Read MoreThere is a saintly aura that transcends my life every time seasons change. I can feel it in my bones, my back aches + my mind tries to coerce my spirit into thinking this feeling will pass, but the flesh won’t allow it to subside. It is no surprise that I am deeply introspective + probably more honest than others care for me to be. Blame it on my tragic beginning, all the hearts I broke, the lies I told + the trauma I ingested. I gather my mistakes + rinse them daily because unlike most people I see myself clearly because I like my coffee dark with lots of self- reflection. I sit in every choice + every regret until I can cover every circumstance in forgiveness. Lately I’ve experienced all kind of loss which reminds me that I’m still learning how to let grief take a seat until its ready to vacate my sanctuary.
Read MoreNo one escapes the perils of life that pierce us to the point of anguish. Unfortunately for black people, we know this sentiment all too well + are reminded daily as we maneuver our blackness while carrying the weight of our history. It’s complicated! We carry success like a tamed beast; proud but ferocious. We are loving at first glance, appearing to have it altogether but underneath we are tortured by our past. Carrying the weight of having to make it + then free everyone else. Despite our list of accomplishments, black people share a sobering emotional attachment to overcoming mental illness. Often labeled as “crazy” by our own when we vocalize that we couldn’t “pray it away”, therefore resigning to suffer silently rather than reach out for help.
Read MoreI have been searching diligently, quietly summoning every ancestor while chasing my purpose fully understanding that the Creator + I are in a deep covenant. I question every intention, every motivation, ensuring that my will is put in check + that my ego is buried. I die to myself daily debating my choices, scrutinizing every word that falls from my lips. Why? Because I know that I am responsible for everyone that comes across my path. I am crystal clear about many things in my life, but some things are extremely blurry; terrifyingly unclear to the point that I am often left humbled to a whisper. Often crouched in a corner with tears streaming, staring aimlessly at my plans hoping they align with the Most High.
Read MoreLately, I have been mourning the parts of me that carry the pain of holding onto my will for so long. I ache at the thought of surrendering + I cringe at the work that is going into relinquishing years of trauma. My muscles are bruised from the plight of being a single mother. There are parts of me that collapse under years of silence; having to stuff down fragmented sentences hoping that later they would make sense. Make no mistake, the heart listens to the suppressed emotions that eventually manifests in our bodies + the deeper burden is to be aware of it all. With every bit of knowledge and acknowledgment there comes an inevitable lingering despair which beckons us to forgive.
Read MoreTo carry the intersections of being black + a woman on the carousel of life while juggling the intersections of class + gender one must dissect the tradition of overcoming being a black woman. The black woman has endured destruction at every door + sometimes at the hand of her own mother, the mere reflection of her own likeness has been betrayed by generations of abandoned women. Unfortunately, even herself is not beyond her own suspicion. It’s complicated! She’s intelligent; but often insecure. She’s attractive, but often undesirable because her attitude reeks of rejection. She’s extremely loving, but unapproachable. She wears abandonment like cashmere; unemotional yet refined. Everyone has overlooked her; therefore, she must display a disposition of being perpetually guarded. God forbid she is exposed as false with all the blankets of contradictions. Striving in her career to overcompensate for the relationship she longs for. Playing interpersonal relationships like chess; never working with women who may challenge her for fear of being seen as an imposter. Dismissive at best; intimidated at worst. We struggle being seen because we have been overlooked for so long.
Read MoreI consciously live in color as it relates to my relationship with my wife. Intentionally dissecting the effort, it takes to love another human being. Regularly our conversations consist of what it takes to make a marriage work when we have never witnessed a successful union. Frequently, we communicate the pain that stains our perspective as we contemplate the route we should take to unhinge our own wills. Often we forgive fully understanding that love is a choice + we don’t always get to decide on how we get to distribute it. It’s eerily complicated! A space only those who dare reside can humbly admit, it’s everything you hoped + nothing like you ever expected.
Read MoreThere is a heartbreaking tenderness about black folks. A majestic story that is spoken through stolen slaves + subjugated bodies. Our faces are centuries away from our soul; yet we carry the smile of humanness. An accessibility we would allow if we knew how to enter our own spirits. It’s evident that our feet carry the shackles of insecurities proven to shatter relationships when we come up against our own likeness. We struggle to love due to the threats that were made to keep us isolated. Oh, how I love being black. Did you think I wouldn’t after I divulged some of our frailties? Despite our struggles, we are larger than life, precious jewels that create art through our pain while we use laughter as a salve to heal so that we may survive yet another day.
Read MoreI was raised by a mother who was tough as a fistful of “no thank you’s”; yet resilient enough to beckon the sun to shine even when it was raining. She raised most of her siblings, missed half of the school year working to provide for her family + married the first person that resembled a deep breath. Convinced that she had escaped a life of monotony, she conceived me with a man who never achieved success, so he recycled ignorance. Nevertheless, my mother raised me with fortitude + grace bestowing on me all of her failed dreams + the effects of being neglected. It sounds cruel as if my life was being ruined; however, it was being created from the residue of a generation that carried the weight of being extraordinarily resilient.
Read MoreThe weight of my skin wakes me up every single morning. I am jolted by the day begging me to be quieter + less black. I crawl out of bed pulling the hopes of my ancestors from under years of self-degradation praying that my parent’s trauma doesn’t trip me up today. Trusting that my vernacular is articulate enough to get your attention because most days I am injured by the explanations; bruised by the shape-shifting + code switching. Transforming to fit into something worthy of being acceptable + magnificent. Grasping the understanding that we wouldn’t return or recover. Reminded that being glorious is dangerous, especially when you are black. Warriors must walk lightly taking into consideration their gifts as well as their frailties. We hail from things that are fascinating, but up close can be misconstrued as ice sculptures; gorgeous + emotionless.
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