Leading With Love and Compassion
This blog is for the individual that desires more of themselves + the people in their lives.
Loving my wife has come out of necessity, the desire to get something right. To succeed at relating to another human being in the most intimate way when you have never seen healthy relationships. When witnessing abusive love coupled with complacent love not to mention toxic love throughout your life you live in a perpetual space of survival. Working to beat the odds for fear of letting down an entire generation. It’s complicated!
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Lately I have been cultivating love in a new way + taking time to do the things I love. I live in my head as a way to stay unwaveringly grounded. Being unapologetically queer+ black with an understanding of all the things that my parents, parents, parents endured can be extremely heady. It’s complicated! So I work hard to dismantle the parts of my lineage that tend to trip me up.
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 seek to love my kids in a way that allows them to understand what love looks like + what love feels like. I am honored to have a boy + a girl but truthfully I am always working on being equitable. Judicial in a way that gives my son a space to be soft + loving. I remember when I was younger watching men objectify women + abuse them. Meanwhile, I have had the luxury of dating amazing men; yet I only have felt safe with women. 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 MoreWhen growing in love, I have been learning to yield more to the Universe. Allowing the Creator to lead me. I have been learning to forgive quickly because holding grudges interferes with the work I am called to do. I have been surrendering + allowing because love needs room to grow + expand. Especially this love. This love is being cultivated with every exchange, every argument, every disagreement, every misunderstanding, every apology, every intimate moment that reminds us that we are changing an old narrative. A narrative that would like to prove that black love doesn’t exist + if it does, it resides only in movies. So I let love rule!
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 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 MoreWhile watching the movie US, it was the typical backdrop for a traditional black family forced to keep up with their wealthy counterparts as they venture down the rabbit hole. Progress is foreign to black people largely due to the story of race. Most black people consider themselves middle-class; yet only 42% of us own homes. While most of us are doing substantially better than our parents + grandparents; we carry the generational lack that keeps us enslaved. While racism was central to our story, today the picture is extremely more complicated. Although we have an annual spending power of 1.2 trillion, our households have only held a median of $11,000 of wealth. Leaving us only two options: buy up the block or be a business on the block.
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 MoreI have been sitting quietly, meditating on what exactly to say after I watched the movie US. It was so much to say + yet I wondered where to start. So I chose the obvious. Race. As I look at the faces of black folks, I mourn us for so many reasons. We are years away from our souls + haven’t quite fully recovered nor do I think we ever will. Not in this lifetime anyway. It will take several decades to recover the souls that were snatched from our own land + even more decades to remember who we used to be. The reality is race is something we never knew until it was pointed out to us. It was the damaging effects of how racial preferences have a long institutionalized history that often kept black people from opportunities at the expense of our counterparts. It was African slaves replacing the European indentured servants as a source of free labor. It was the General Sherman’s never making good on his “40 acres and a mule” as reparations. It was Jim Crow laws being instituted in the late 19th Century + not being overturned until the 1960’s which reserved the best, jobs, schools, neighborhoods + hospitals for our counterparts. It was the 1935 Wagner Act which granted collective power + excluded black people from access to better jobs, union protection, healthcare, job security + pensions. It was the the Federal Housing Administration deal known today as “redlining” that was explicitly typing mortgage eligibility to race. It was + continually is the border of justice that has always been clearly defined.
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 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.
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I not quite sure if I acknowledge you enough, though you are stapled to the top of my mouth, etched in my heart + forever on my mind. I am not even sure if I release the right amount of petitions, or shine bright enough for others to see where my light truly illuminates from. I don’t even think that my knees bend as many times as they should to allow my ego a break from drowning your voice. I often feel the weight of the questions that linger way after you remind me of your consistent faithfulness. Yet, I climb out of bed every morning with just enough of you to face my day, a mere fraction of you to share with others as a gentle reminder of your amazing love.
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 MoreTo be perfectly honest, being a mother transformed me. It exposed my agony of growing up without a father + it opened my soul to the woman my mother desired to be. In fact, it reminds me that everything isn’t as easy as it looks + sometimes raising your child looks eerily similar to your own upbringing. I imagine when the Universe bestowed children to individuals, it was a form of endearment. Somehow, I’m still learning how to parent myself hoping that my children make it to adulthood minimally unscathed. Daily I gather my mistakes + rinse them with goodness hoping to see a better reflection of myself. Every day I speak life into my children for all the conversations that escaped me as a child. Regularly, I shower them with love for all the adoration that went towards cultivating a warm house + full fridge. Frequently, I show up with arms wide for all the closed doors + silent evenings that were normalized as security. I’ve learned that the joy of motherhood exists in giving my children what I didn’t have.
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.
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