No Fear

December 06, 2019 by Ikeranda Smith in black, history, life, people of color, personal growth, purpose, queer, spirituality

Lately I have been unraveling fear + dissecting how it has caused a wedge in areas of my life. How it has allowed me to listen to well-meaning individuals that refuse to take their own advice. I am convinced that my life + everything about it was the best thing that could have happened to me. Every. Single. Part. Hiding for years has ignited a power in me that permits me to rise into the woman I am destined to be. Being black + queer is everything despite the weight that comes with the obligation of it. It’s hella complicated!

And We Mourn Some More

April 05, 2019 by Ikeranda Smith in black, history, life, love, motherhood, parenting, people of color, personal growth, purpose, relationships, spirituality, women of color

Lately, 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.

To Be Black

February 01, 2019 by Ikeranda Smith in black, history, LGBTQIA, life, love, personal growth, queer, relationships, women of color

The 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.

We Never Recovered

November 28, 2018 by Ikeranda Smith in life, personal growth, relationships, personal development, women of color, history

How do you heal from years of trauma inflicted from one generation to the next? How do you carry the weight of pain that was allocated on you just because it was too heavy to keeping lifting? I am convinced that the residue from years of silenced fears + broken families + illegitimate children coupled with physical + verbal abuse has seemingly disabled us. It has seeped into our homes, coated our walls, soaked our furniture + broken our spirits. We are branded with the scars of perilous times + memories of the middle passage.