February Sugah: 29 Days of Black Love, #1

Hey brilliant reflection of God!
Happy 2016.
How are you feeling?
How are you living?
Are you snoring or are you roaring?

For the entire month of February, I am going to offer you daily treats that are very black and lovely. It is, after all, 
Black History Month & The month of Looooove. 

I am going to share information about some of my favorite people, places, things and experiences. I might even include an interview or two. The Pecola Project is evolving. So am I.  So are you. So are we. Despite the depressing news that's constantly being reported about us,  I still believe that we hold up the sun and light up the world. 


#1  WATCH this fabulous discussion with Iyanla which is all about getting unstuck.  

'cause honey chile. You can't BE FLY & stuck.

(i think i'm pretty witty at times.:)

When Racism Slaps The Taste Out Of Your Mouth and you try your best to remember sweetness...

You are loved.

You are lovely.

You are love.

You are loved.

You are lovely.

You are love.

You are loved. 

Your are lovely.

You are love.

I see you. 

Hold on.

Hold on.

Hold on.

Dear Brothers: Don't Shoot.

I am on a self-imposed negative media fast, but I slipped up and read the awful news about Mary "Unique" Spears, the Young mother killed after refusing a man's advances.  I watched one of Mary's loved ones give an interview with her back to the camera because she's not only afraid to say no to a stranger, she's in fear that another strange man could kill her too.

How many of us feel or have felt the same way?

I remember when I was preparing to leave Texas for college in New York City,  I was warned by a family friend about those "aggressive men" on the East Coast.  I was told the story of some unlucky girl/woman in the Bronx who didn't want to answer to cat calls and was knocked upside the head with a bottle.

At that moment, my 18-year-old self decided that no matter how rude, unattractive, or belligerent the guy or guys were, I would always be nice.  I would put on my southern charm with hopes of saving my virginity and my own life.

Sadly, being polite didn't keep Mary alive.  When asked for her number, she was quoted as saying, "I'm sorry, I have a man. I can't talk to you right now."   I have used that line numerous times in various parts of the U.S., but I can count on a single hand, how many guys backed off immediately....maybe one or two.

Most either responded like I told them that their dicks smelled like Bath & Body Works or as if I'd just crushed it with my bare hands.

I consider it a blessing that none of them were wounded enough to pull out a gun on me, although, I don't think I am above it.

I've been reading responses to this tragedy and many women have expressed that they are now even more afraid to politely turn down unwanted advances.  However, I think we are embarking on dangerous territory if we allow our voices to be silenced.  Now more than ever, we have to say NO in the way that feels best to us, because the worst has already happened!

We owe it to Mary and the countless others who never make the news, to feel empowered enough to not waste our precious time by giving out our names or numbers if we don't want to.  Hell, we don't even have to be gracious, especially when we are met with such hostility. I've personally seen how a little kindness can transform anger in miraculously ways, but every story does not have a happy ending.

There's all this talk about the very real war on black men, but there's not nearly enough discussion (or admission) about the danger zones that many black girls and women find themselves in, especially, within our own communities. The sad truth is that we are being brutalized by some of the very men we are fighting for.

Rest In Peace Unique.  Walk in power, my sisters. Walk with power.

Beautifully designed by RobynNichole.tumblr.com

Forgiveness.

Girl.
Write him a letter.
burn it/send it/ tear it.
Write her a letter.
send it/ tear it/burn it.
Cry for a week or until you feel tired.
Buy a hula hoop or something that made you happy as a child.
Eat your favorite dessert.
Name your pain.
Name your abuser.
Tell the truth.
Smile at yourself in the mirror.
Stop beating yourself up for mistakes you made in your teens/twenties.
So what you dated (had a baby by, wasted time on a, was hurt by) a loser. You are more than your mistakes.
Give thanks for the lesson.
It's not always easy, but try to forgive your parents. If they hurt you, there's a great chance they were hurt.
Forgiveness can sometimes feel too big. Sort of like a big ass elephant sitting on your throat.
I know personally how difficult it can be to have compassion for someone who has caused you great pain.
But it works, if you work it or want it to work. 

Sisters, we don't have to carry or be defined by PAIN. We deserve a break from it. Don't you think?

Have enough courage to change the script. Welcome Happiness, Joy, Peace, Great Sex, Beautiful Conversations, Trusting relationships, Honest Laughter... If you don't know where to begin, find a good therapist/counselor/life coach who can assist you.

This type of healing doesn't happen over night, so you might as well get started on it now :)

Happy New Year! I love and believe in you! 

Attitude of Gratitude: Ten Reasons Why I AM GRATEFUL To Be Born A Black Girl

1. Scientifically speaking, we were the first chicas on the planet.  Straight up. 

Those mama jokes aren't so funny once you realize that my Bigmama  was yours and  that you wouldn't be here if it wasn't for her.... Run tell that. 

2. We are brilliant. We can read you, write you, tell all about you... effortlessly.

3.  We are naturally beautiful and we have style.  

Even though it can be difficult finding our faces on the cover of Vogue (and next to your favorite rapper), we are trendsetters. Give us needle and thread, and we'll design a dress for the Queen or give you the most amazing hairstyle. 

4. The many colors and richness of our skin. Our wonderful hair.

5. We are resilient. 

Damn, they've tried to break our backs and spirits, but  it feels like somewhere in our DNA there's music that you can't stop grooving to.

6.  People love us. No really, they do. 

From young white boys to great grandparents, we are always being 'imitated'.  Of course, they usually get it all wrong, but I guess some of it is flattering. Folks are SO inspired by our swag and spirit. 

7. The switch.  The strut. The shake. The wobble. 

8. We can make twenty dollars stretch like the Nile. From food to decorations, books to outfits and every thing in between. We got you.

9. Our optimism. 
Despite common beliefs and all that we've been through, there's lots of research that indicates that Black girls, when compared to their white counterparts, have higher self esteem. Although, I'd love to see a world where girls of all races know their power,  I am especially proud to be from the group that sees the glass as half full.

10. Our hearts.
We love you, even when you're hurting us. 
We pray for our enemies and abusers.

A black girl can will have a dollar to our names, be running on empty- several blocks from the gas station, see someone who needs change or a ride, and more often than not,  will give it to them without asking for anything in return. If that aint God, I don't know what is!

CELEBRATE!

The news will turn strong women into cry babies.

Shot in the face
For being
black
brown
woman
helpless

white men
with chocolate
chips on their shoulders
are the real terrorist.

black men
with broken shoulders
are too.

Why do they
love/enjoy/ get away with
hurting us so?

Happy Veterans Day? Black Women and Post-traumatic Stress Disorder

For the past year, I've had the privilege of working as a guest artist with the Carpetbag Theatre on Linda Paris-Bailey's play, Speed Killed My Cousin, directed by Andrea Assaf. Speed is a multi-discipline work rooted in the story of an African-American, female combat soldier and her struggle with post-traumatic stress disorder after returning home from Iraq. The central character, a third generation soldier, courts death by vehicular suicide.

Before taking on the lead role of Debra, I had limited knowledge about the experiences of women in the military and I didn't know the working definition of PTSD, even though I had experienced it after my only brother was murdered in 2007.

The National Institute of Mental Health offers the following explanation of Post-traumatic Stress Disorder: 

"...People who have PTSD may feel stressed or frightened even when they're no longer in danger.  PTSD develops after a terrifying ordeal that involved physical harm or the threat of physical harm. The person who develops PTSD may have been the one who was harmed, the harm may have happened to a loved one, or the persona may have witnessed a harmful event that happened to loved ones or stranger. PTSD was first brought to public attention in relation to war veterans, but it can result from a variety of traumatic incidents, such as mugging, rape, torture, being kidnapped or held captive, child abuse, car accidents, train wrecks  plane crashes, bombings, or natural disasters such as floods or earthquakes."

This necessary work of art, has opened my eyes in ways that I never could have imagined. CBT's commitment to giving artistic voice to issues and dreams of people who have been silenced by racism, sexism, homophobia, etc., has carried this work from Knoxville to Miami, North Carolina to Tampa, and soon the great city of New Orleans. But we don't just show up and perform. Each stop on the tour, we conduct story circles with some of America's bravest people, veterans with PTSD. 

While in Tampa last month, I met two African-American mothers who are survivors of wars here and abroad. Their stories, like so many others, inspire me to continue living truthfully on stage because dammit..there are women who will never get recognized and/or the treatment they need and deserve.

Studies suggest that Black Women in combat zones continue to experience higher rates of PTSD due to assaults that are never reported: READ MORE ABOUT THAT HERE. This is yet another example of why I will raise the Black Girl Banner until I leave this planet. 

BLACK GIRLS ROCK and we also suffer from anxiety and depression. We DESERVE Love and to feel safe...ALWAYS!

On this Veteran's Day, let us remember the men and women who took the vow to protect and serve this great country. I am especially proud of my oldest nephew, Keevondrick Womack (K.T.), who is now an Airmen!  

And let us also remember the countless others who do not feel like they've been protected by their country or countrymen, and are suffering every day because of this.

Resources:
http://www.ptsd.va.gov/
http://veteranscrisisline.net/