You Owe Me An Apology!
I was born and raised in the most “human” city in America. I’m a Baltimore girl through and through. My cell phone number still starts with, “410”. I was the first-born grandchild, showered with love but weighted with responsibility. I was what the church folks called an “old soul”. Immaturity wasn’t a luxury afforded to me. I was a young black girl maneuvering the neighborhood’s of Sandtown-Winchester, 72- square blocks of layered history. In the ’80s, my grandfather would love to boast of Baltimore’s most notable figures. I sang to Billie Holiday. I wanted to be as intelligent as...
Read MoreThe Bullies You Never Forget
Last weekend I received a phone call from my parents encouraging me to take the boys to Druid Hill Park to attend the 2nd Annual African Griot Book Fair. It was a nice family event. The highlight was listening to Baltimore’s own, Maria Broom, narrate her children’s book, “The Village Bully”. I sat with my boys as Maria took us through the heartwarming story of Michael Jose Jamal, a young boy, larger than most in his class, who had suffered great lost and lashed out in school. I reminisced over my own childhood, coming up against many “Michaels”. When the story was over, we began walking...
Read MoreCome Again?! (Part One of “Expecting A Baby”)
On March 18, 2013 my husband and I were beyond excited to attend our first ultrasound appointment. The thought that we were having another child was a little overwhelming but amazing at the same time. Now closer to 2 years old, we wanted S Dot to have a partner in crime. This crawling on the floor and being his main form of entertainment was becoming a bit much. Plus, I often tell people that I am not sure how I could have survived childhood without my little brother. After everything we had been through and witnessed while growing-up, it is great to have someone who you can talk trash to...
Read MorePerception vs. Reality
Most people would consider me to be a fairly self-sufficient woman. I take pride in going in alone and handling my business. And, therein lies the problem. I’ve allowed my “perception of strength” to fool me into believing that asking for help is a weakness. I heard a quote once that knocked me on my behind, “If you are too proud to admit you are hurting…don’t be surprised if no one seems to care”. The week following my twins birth was the hardest time of my life. See, I’m not a fan of hospitals, which makes me a horrible patient. I had an...
Read MoreFeeling Some Kinda Way
Childbirth is ironic, isn’t it? A mother carries life for 9-months, the effects on her body are astounding, the pain of delivery is excruciating. Yet, when a mother loses her child, the pain felt during birth is eclipsed by the unfathomable pain of her child’s life being taken away. February 26, 2012, Trayvon Martin was killed. He was a 17-year-old African-American boy who was fatally shot by a neighborhood watch volunteer in Florida. My first born son had just turned 6-months old. July 17, 2014, Eric Garner died in New York City, after a police officer put him in a choke hold...
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As Seen on BlogHer