Don’t tell me not to be angry. I’m not accusing anyone of anything, so don’t, as my mama says, “get your butt up on your shoulders.” If it’s not your shame, don’t take it on.
What are we celebrating?
My husband brought these to my attention. Women of African descent in America are like desert flowers. We don't need your water. We thrive with or without your attention. We are uniquely beautiful. Come for us, lacking in sufficient care and consideration, and you will walk away remembering the experience, for better or for worse. …
I've undertaken a daily gratitude practice, stopping to write 3 things for which I am grateful. A friend. She called it wholly transformative. She's right. Exhale all that weighs you down, and give thanks.
Black like the night, deep like the seas, perfectly made, Imago Dei. This is who I am. Get used to it.
Even in my evolving, liminal state, I do best to keep my mind and eyes open, and my mouth shut. That is one of Cara Meredith's lessons, far more gently put. Bridge building is an act of redemption, and I learned from her as I read.
If you're wondering about my current personal mantra, it's this, "I am my ancestor's WILDEST DREAMS."
I am comfortable with Maya Angelou’s characterization Father/Mother/God for several reasons, not the least of which is that some days I need a Father Figure, others the Compassion of a fierce and Omnipotent Mother, and other days when it does not matter.
God is so much bigger than any box we could conceive.
"The way you articulate your position...., you know, you're so articulate for a...."
I speak like the people I know. Those I spend time with, those whom I love. Those who raised me, those who raised them, etcetera. English, well-spoken and well writ, is our first language. We go to college (we graduate). We're normal.
This is about to be a series. I have a number of things to be pissed-off about where the Community of Faith is concerned, but I'll start here.