Beautiful Maya via Don’t shoot the messenger! Hey, I’m just the messenger! A flippant yet poignant phrase, no? The implication that someone is bringing a message of some sort to me from someone else, carrying it like a box of unsteady explosives or a barrel of chocolates. The medium is superfluous, the messenger simply has something to deliver and it’s usually not from them. Either way, a message is sent. When I think of MY recent messengers, and all the... Read more
Every other day or so I do my hair. Every week or so I wash my hair. Every other week or so I re-style my hair. If I’m going to do all that work any old way, why not make a hair vlogging channel? My friend, Sharry has been trying to get me to do this for ages. So here I go… Come check me out over on my channel: Mixed HAIRitage My goal is to to make 7 minute... Read more
How Does God make Things Happen? With YOUR hands. Reads page 1 – page 2 of one of the best books I ever bought my sons. How does God feed the poor? With YOUR Hands. Reads page 3. The last page concludes that God makes things happen with big hands, little hands, weak hands and strong hands, but the point is made clear: God uses US to make things happen. If a park gets built in an impoverished neighborhood where... Read more
Beneath the stereotype of the angry black woman is an overlooked vulnerability. Rahiel Tesfamariam writes that black women act as if there is a war being waged against us. Yes, yes and more yes. Tesfamariam recognizes that the U.S. still doesn’t know how to deal with the “angry black woman,” whether she’s Solange in an elevator or a woman lamenting the life of her dead son. She goes on to say, “We wouldn’t have to fight so hard if our... Read more
When he was a baby, I had the whole post-partum depression thing going on. He was ALWAYS talking aka screaming. I was frustrated. Our first son, he was the baby that never cried. Almost never. But, along came Rhys, crying like a banshee. My expectations were off kilter. He started trying to nurse WHILE STANDING at 6 months. Seriously kid? SERIOUSLY? And then at 7 months, he only nursed while standing. I was frustrated. While it is physically possible to... Read more
Last Sunday, I took my boys to our new black Church. When we pulled into the parking lot, Ransom (8.5) sighed. “Ugh. Mama, I don’t want to go this one. I wanted to go to Daddy’s (white) Church!” Rhysie (4.5), of course, followed suit. “Yeah, Mama. I didn’t want to go to this one.” I lug them out of the car, pontificating about having a good attitude and being thankful for all things blah blah blah when I realize I... Read more
A few years ago, I worked for InterVarsity Christian Fellowship as a Regional Black Campus Ministries Coordinator. That meant I was in charge of overseeing all of IV’s black chapters, black staff & non-black staff working with black students in MI, OH, W. VA & Western PA. I’d been doing work with black students specifically -by request and calling– for over 10 years before I stepped into that role. In short? I had a lot of black folks in my life on... Read more
Allow me to talk around my mess if I may… A few years ago, a best friend of mine who I adore & love like a sister, was in a hot, triflin’ mess. Not the pretend kind that bloggers sometimes ramble on about in which their seemingly perfect children and marriages hit a bitty snag in an otherwise mostly peaceful middle-class, American existence. No. I’m talking, straight up *actual* mess. I didn’t know how to respond. I was mad at... Read more
Yes, my insta feed, twitter feed & FB feed was all abuzz from my time at the #FFWgr. At the Festival of Faith & Writers, I was entirely inspired, convicted, guilt-ridden to begin writing consistently again. Let’s just keep it real, y’all: 75% of the reason I went to FFW was Annie Lamott. That, driving distance & blogging peeps! And, true to form, she IMPACTED me. I met & leaned on Annie’s leg. O Magnify, Lord Jesus. I asked... Read more
Lord, may I be willing to love. Let me be willing to sacrifice, truly sacrifice for others. Make me willing to set down my false self. Make me willing to see myself: the despicable and the beautiful. Let me be willing to own each and every loved nook and cranny. Make me willing to to see hard truths. Let me be willing to own up to my consistent delusional thinking. Let me be willing to sit with selfish steps taken... Read more
Everyday Black Matters
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