While I was blessed with a pretty serendipitous pregnancy, having my baby girl here in the world with me instead of inside of me has honestly freed me. Being a new mom has forced me to ponder what I'm doing in the world and why. Now that I have some time at home, I have privately spent the last three weeks of my life asking myself,"What defines me?"
There's a wonderful list of questions on self discovery created by Aileen of Lavendaire.com. I found this amazing blogger and the journaling resource on Pinterest. While it is meant for journaling, I figured I'd share my journey with my Sirens. Come along with me as I rediscover who I am on Behind the Siren. what Defines ME?
I used to have this aversion to the "box" definition of a Christian. I also hated the generalities of both black and female identities. The last 18 months of my life have slowly unraveled the tangled webs of my dissidence from "normality." So, what defines me most at this immediate moment is a profound understanding that I am like a lot of other Black Christian women.
Gasps. Grabs heart. Inner Uniqueness passes out.
Modern worldly doctrine makes us feel ashamed for having commonality with those around us. We have become so hell bent on being unique and "ourselves" that we have turned our normal human desire to belong into a curse. Now, instead of embracing other people like us, community has become an accursed thing. How dare you be just like other women who are just like you? We have turned forums and group think into quiet cult-like arenas where we hide in proverbial antiquity.
What chiefly defines me is that I am not alone. Even when society tries to make me feel I am on an island of uniqueness, it really is a nation of other women like me. Secondly, I am a writer who doesn't write her own story. There is a scripture that I have learned to appreciate even more since late 2015. “Looking unto Jesus the author and finisher of our faith; who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is set down at the right hand of the throne of God.” Hebrews 12:2 KJV. My savior is the "author and the finisher" of my life. You can imagine that as a writer that scripture always struck a chord with me. It wasn't until God start adding plot twists I wasn't ready for that I truly accepted what it means. God is in control, not my own volition, and certainly not my own strength or character. I am defined by the comfort of knowing that I am not alone. There are other believers who hate Taylor Smith's music and love Nando's Peri Peri. We sci-fi-loving black girls are amongst you. Ha! I am also defined by a deep understanding that the only person who controls who I am is the savior that saved who I was. Now, when life throws some large obstacle in my direction I can yell PLOT TWIST. And brace for impact. God's got this. Are you like me and looking for a community of like-minded women? Join us on the Style Sirens page.
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But, au contraire, I would actually like to express my deepest of gratitude to you for how you have handled this entire situation. I took the liberty of checking out your Instagram and Twitter to see if you were one of “those” public figures; the ones who do too little with their privilege but expect the world to invest in their businesses and brands. And you passed the test! Not one stance. You’ve taken not one stance on the matter that has all of the Black Internet in an uproar. So, thank you for reiterating to us that if you stand for nothing, you will fall for anything. And oh boy have you fallen!
You’ve fallen for the white trap of thinking that doing nothing is actually doing something. You’ve fallen to the temptation of letting issues in Black culture be some other niggas problem. You’ve fell into the black hole of, as Charlamagne so eloquently wrote, “meaningless, stereotypical NBA news.” You’ve fallen for the stereotype of playing the white man’s game to make the white man’s money, loving the white man’s daughter just to leave your black identity behind. And you did it all while pretending that it was not your job to clarify to America whether Black beauty matters to you. Now, I’m not one who thinks that Black issues are every black man’s problem. I also don’t judge love, no matter its color or sexuality. I’m not grateful to you because you have gracefully fallen into either of those categories. Actually, I’m thankful because when Black issues gave you an opportunity to use your voice, you murmured and acted like we weren’t there. Who is this “we” who was at your door you ask. We, black chicks, the wodies, the queens who have been told time and time again that our beauty was secondary and that our lives were sacrificial. Thank you for continuing these ideals in your silence. |
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