Here's an old poem I decided to share. It's one of the few things I wrote in high school that doesn't make me cringe.
You disappeared and tore my world,
My life, colored with scarlet pain.
Days of grief, all plans unfurled
And constant sadness poured down like rain.
But don't despair, we'll meet again;
By His will, we'll see the Gates
And Heaven's light will help us, friend,
To forget about untimely fates.
For angels' mercy grants this much:
That the innocent live on in peace.
You weren't meant to feel Death's touch
So in Heaven your worries shall cease.
And as He sits upon His throne
I know He smiles and calmly waits
To call me to my blissful home
Where we will meet at Heaven's Gates.
Wednesday, September 2, 2015
Friday, June 19, 2015
Another Black Body: Fear
I am not going to sit here and try to convince people that racism exists. I am not going to point out the endless examples of cultural appropriation in America and explain why they're wrong. I am not going to argue about ownership of the n-word, or black on black crime, or whether police are in fact using excessive force.
I am also not going to argue about whether the sky is blue or the sun is hot. I'm not. I'm tired, uninterested, and frankly, there is nothing I could say that hasn't been said much more powerfully and thoroughly in the million essays, articles, speeches, and posts before this one. So instead of trying to understand what's going on inside the heads and hearts of racists and what seems like an apathetic-American majority, I'm going to do the only productive work it seems I can do...which is to make sense of what the hell I'm feeling through all of this.
Ferguson, Baltimore, McKinney, Charleston...Every time a new story pops up, I'm hit with a barrage of feelings before I can even make sense of what has happened. As I read, comment, and share the posts of my friends, I recognize similar responses, shared sentiments. Most interestingly, I notice a familiar fluctuation of emotions that I think is worth some exploration.
This post will be the first in a series of posts as I attempt to explore those emotions, the complicated cavalcade of feelings that leave us simultaneously broken and emboldened, resigned and resilient. I'm not entirely sure where this or going, or if I'll share it, or why I'm even writing it for that matter. All I know is that when I have a lot of feelings, I have to write. Perhaps it's for no other reason than to offer a peek into the mind of one, and hope that it sparks some sense of comfort or solidarity in another. I think it's safe to say we could all use a little unity right now.
Each post will focus on a different feeling: anger, heartbreak, fear, frustration, exhaustion/numbness, etc. I think in truth, we all live in all of these stages forever. They take turns at the forefront and do not operate in a particular order, but they're all constantly there. Wherever we start, I believe we have to end with resilience. Keep learning, keep educating, keep sharing, keep posting. Keep talking for the victims who can no longer speak for themselves, and for the next generations who won't have a choice if we don't do the work now.
Anyway, here's the first of the series...
Another Black Body: Fear
When we were young, fear was easy. Darkness, monsters, spiders...all were terrifying but avoidable. We could get a nightlight, or call mom and dad to shoo the bad dreams away. As I've gotten older, fear has evolved into something much more sinister than my imagination could ever come up with. Fear for my life, the lives of my loved ones. Fear that my brother's dreads might draw too much attention while he was driving, walking, existing. Fear that his brown skin would do the same once he cut the dreads off. Fear that the "leaders of tomorrow" sitting across from me in Princeton University classrooms were just extremely well-read bigots. The list goes on.
There is a lot to be afraid of, but there's one fear in particular that sickens me: the fear of being shamed for being vocal about these issues. Staying up late ranting to friends, signing petitions, sharing stories on social media, asking questions, verbally jousting with trolls and the "but ALL lives matter" parade in the comments section of endless Facebook posts...it gets tiring, but I have the courage of my convictions and knowing that keeping the conversations going is the very least I can do to uphold the work of activists and martyrs before us.
That being said, it can get difficult when you notice friends quieting down when you enter a room, or accusing you of making things awkward for speaking your mind. Branding you as "militant" or "loud," or some other sly way of saying, "I wish she would shut up about this stuff." And then there are the friends who only see things in black and white; who think that because I love black people, I somehow don't love others. Your love for your friends and the natural human desire to "fit in" can sometimes leave you feeling like maybe you're doing too much; maybe this isn't the crowd or now isn't the time for me to bring this up.
F*ck that.
If we can only be friends when I'm sharing videos of cute puppies and babies, I'm not here for it. If you can ask me how to twerk, but suddenly have no time to talk when real topics come up, I'm not here for it. If I have to be afraid that our relationship is conditional upon how much I mention my blackness, I don't want it. I've spent a lot of time being afraid of being that person: that person that makes things uncomfortable, or can't take a joke, or gets too sensitive. I've also spent a lot of time being uncomfortable, being the butt of racially insensitive jokes, and feeling sick to my stomach for letting that kind of bs make me question myself. Intentional or not, shaming someone for being proud of the people and culture from which they come is ignorant and reprehensible. Who needs enemies when you've got friends like that?
For anyone reading this who sees him/herself in this group of friends I've described, for anyone who is tired of everyone "making everything about race," or thinks we should just leave if we're so unhappy with America...Do I make you uncomfortable? Tough. Racism and people who wear socks with sandals make me uncomfortable. But they, like my opinions, aren't going away either. Woops.
For anyone reading this who, like me, has ever found themselves feeling embarrassed for their views, of afraid to have an opinion...don't be too hard on yourselves. Fake friends and the media shame us enough without us doing it to ourselves. Hold your head up and know that you'll sleep better for having spoken your truth. Don't be afraid to have feelings or to voice them. There are bigger things to be afraid of...like, you know, being Black in America.
-Kenziekenzz <3
I am also not going to argue about whether the sky is blue or the sun is hot. I'm not. I'm tired, uninterested, and frankly, there is nothing I could say that hasn't been said much more powerfully and thoroughly in the million essays, articles, speeches, and posts before this one. So instead of trying to understand what's going on inside the heads and hearts of racists and what seems like an apathetic-American majority, I'm going to do the only productive work it seems I can do...which is to make sense of what the hell I'm feeling through all of this.
Ferguson, Baltimore, McKinney, Charleston...Every time a new story pops up, I'm hit with a barrage of feelings before I can even make sense of what has happened. As I read, comment, and share the posts of my friends, I recognize similar responses, shared sentiments. Most interestingly, I notice a familiar fluctuation of emotions that I think is worth some exploration.
This post will be the first in a series of posts as I attempt to explore those emotions, the complicated cavalcade of feelings that leave us simultaneously broken and emboldened, resigned and resilient. I'm not entirely sure where this or going, or if I'll share it, or why I'm even writing it for that matter. All I know is that when I have a lot of feelings, I have to write. Perhaps it's for no other reason than to offer a peek into the mind of one, and hope that it sparks some sense of comfort or solidarity in another. I think it's safe to say we could all use a little unity right now.
Each post will focus on a different feeling: anger, heartbreak, fear, frustration, exhaustion/numbness, etc. I think in truth, we all live in all of these stages forever. They take turns at the forefront and do not operate in a particular order, but they're all constantly there. Wherever we start, I believe we have to end with resilience. Keep learning, keep educating, keep sharing, keep posting. Keep talking for the victims who can no longer speak for themselves, and for the next generations who won't have a choice if we don't do the work now.
Anyway, here's the first of the series...
Another Black Body: Fear
When we were young, fear was easy. Darkness, monsters, spiders...all were terrifying but avoidable. We could get a nightlight, or call mom and dad to shoo the bad dreams away. As I've gotten older, fear has evolved into something much more sinister than my imagination could ever come up with. Fear for my life, the lives of my loved ones. Fear that my brother's dreads might draw too much attention while he was driving, walking, existing. Fear that his brown skin would do the same once he cut the dreads off. Fear that the "leaders of tomorrow" sitting across from me in Princeton University classrooms were just extremely well-read bigots. The list goes on.
There is a lot to be afraid of, but there's one fear in particular that sickens me: the fear of being shamed for being vocal about these issues. Staying up late ranting to friends, signing petitions, sharing stories on social media, asking questions, verbally jousting with trolls and the "but ALL lives matter" parade in the comments section of endless Facebook posts...it gets tiring, but I have the courage of my convictions and knowing that keeping the conversations going is the very least I can do to uphold the work of activists and martyrs before us.
That being said, it can get difficult when you notice friends quieting down when you enter a room, or accusing you of making things awkward for speaking your mind. Branding you as "militant" or "loud," or some other sly way of saying, "I wish she would shut up about this stuff." And then there are the friends who only see things in black and white; who think that because I love black people, I somehow don't love others. Your love for your friends and the natural human desire to "fit in" can sometimes leave you feeling like maybe you're doing too much; maybe this isn't the crowd or now isn't the time for me to bring this up.
F*ck that.
If we can only be friends when I'm sharing videos of cute puppies and babies, I'm not here for it. If you can ask me how to twerk, but suddenly have no time to talk when real topics come up, I'm not here for it. If I have to be afraid that our relationship is conditional upon how much I mention my blackness, I don't want it. I've spent a lot of time being afraid of being that person: that person that makes things uncomfortable, or can't take a joke, or gets too sensitive. I've also spent a lot of time being uncomfortable, being the butt of racially insensitive jokes, and feeling sick to my stomach for letting that kind of bs make me question myself. Intentional or not, shaming someone for being proud of the people and culture from which they come is ignorant and reprehensible. Who needs enemies when you've got friends like that?
For anyone reading this who sees him/herself in this group of friends I've described, for anyone who is tired of everyone "making everything about race," or thinks we should just leave if we're so unhappy with America...Do I make you uncomfortable? Tough. Racism and people who wear socks with sandals make me uncomfortable. But they, like my opinions, aren't going away either. Woops.
For anyone reading this who, like me, has ever found themselves feeling embarrassed for their views, of afraid to have an opinion...don't be too hard on yourselves. Fake friends and the media shame us enough without us doing it to ourselves. Hold your head up and know that you'll sleep better for having spoken your truth. Don't be afraid to have feelings or to voice them. There are bigger things to be afraid of...like, you know, being Black in America.
-Kenziekenzz <3
Sunday, January 11, 2015
Why It's Time To STOP Being Afraid
If there were an award for psyching yourself out, I'd be the winner, the runner up, and ALL the nominees. Alright, maybe I'm being extra...but the point is, I am the queen of scaring myself out of things. I wouldn't call myself a quitter, because my issue is not with following through. Instead, my problem is that I build things up to be SO big and SO unattainable in my mind, that I often don't even try. Why go for that? What's the point? Why try if it's never going to happen anyway?
I know what you're thinking: Girl, BYE! *insert stank face emoji.* But in all seriousness, it is a problem that I deal with, and one I'm sure others might be facing as well. I'm afraid of failure. The thought that I might not reach the goals I desire the most is terrifying to me, and so it can seem easier not to try. I do it with lots of things: losing weight, dating, dancing. If you don't put yourself out there, you can't be disappointed, right? Well, thankfully, I realize that this mentality serves no one, least of all myself. I am working on changing this mindset, but I must admit, it can be hard to talk about because of the stigma that comes with being afraid. This stigma takes many forms: "get over it," "man up," "stop being a punk," or my personal favorite, "stop crying witcho b*tch*ass!" In my experience, often times when I've tried to communicate just how crippling fear can be in my life, I get the "tough love" responses. People who might not identify with your particular struggle will tell you that you're being ridiculous, that you'll never see results without effort, or that you complain too much. The truth is, they're right.
But I recently discovered something interesting about myself. Whenever I get those comments, whenever I'm told just to "suck it up and try," the only feeling that grows inside of me is resentment. I can know with 100% confidence that what you're saying makes sense, that I DO need to get over myself and try, but it doesn't matter. I've discovered that tough love just doesn't resonate with me. Instead of feeling pushed and encouraged, it makes me feel belittled and misunderstood. I know that this is, most of the time, not the intention of the other person. More often than not, they genuinely want to help. Regardless, I've found that it's just not a method that works for me. I simply don't respond to it.
Sooooo how exactly do you get your shit together when you can't handle being told to get your shit together? Interesting question.
In a recent fit of frustration, I took to Facebook with the status "how do you stop being afraid to do things???" It was more of a rhetorical question; an instance of emotional word vomit, if you will haha. But I did get some answers. One of my good college friends texted me shortly after to offer her two cents. She didn't tell me to suck it up. Instead, without even knowing exactly what had prompted my status, she offered up some tidbits on how SHE copes with fear. The conversation that ensued helped me immensely.
Basically, this friend suggested that I try to look at facing my fears as a way to honor myself and God. She referenced a particular video of singer/rapper Lauryn Hill:
-Kenziekenzz <3
I know what you're thinking: Girl, BYE! *insert stank face emoji.* But in all seriousness, it is a problem that I deal with, and one I'm sure others might be facing as well. I'm afraid of failure. The thought that I might not reach the goals I desire the most is terrifying to me, and so it can seem easier not to try. I do it with lots of things: losing weight, dating, dancing. If you don't put yourself out there, you can't be disappointed, right? Well, thankfully, I realize that this mentality serves no one, least of all myself. I am working on changing this mindset, but I must admit, it can be hard to talk about because of the stigma that comes with being afraid. This stigma takes many forms: "get over it," "man up," "stop being a punk," or my personal favorite, "stop crying witcho b*tch*ass!" In my experience, often times when I've tried to communicate just how crippling fear can be in my life, I get the "tough love" responses. People who might not identify with your particular struggle will tell you that you're being ridiculous, that you'll never see results without effort, or that you complain too much. The truth is, they're right.
But I recently discovered something interesting about myself. Whenever I get those comments, whenever I'm told just to "suck it up and try," the only feeling that grows inside of me is resentment. I can know with 100% confidence that what you're saying makes sense, that I DO need to get over myself and try, but it doesn't matter. I've discovered that tough love just doesn't resonate with me. Instead of feeling pushed and encouraged, it makes me feel belittled and misunderstood. I know that this is, most of the time, not the intention of the other person. More often than not, they genuinely want to help. Regardless, I've found that it's just not a method that works for me. I simply don't respond to it.
Sooooo how exactly do you get your shit together when you can't handle being told to get your shit together? Interesting question.
In a recent fit of frustration, I took to Facebook with the status "how do you stop being afraid to do things???" It was more of a rhetorical question; an instance of emotional word vomit, if you will haha. But I did get some answers. One of my good college friends texted me shortly after to offer her two cents. She didn't tell me to suck it up. Instead, without even knowing exactly what had prompted my status, she offered up some tidbits on how SHE copes with fear. The conversation that ensued helped me immensely.
Basically, this friend suggested that I try to look at facing my fears as a way to honor myself and God. She referenced a particular video of singer/rapper Lauryn Hill:
My friend: "Also you know what helps me? Sometimes it feels kinda weird or uncomfortable and mad scary to jump out there but I saw this clip of Lauryn hill talking about where her confidence comes from. And she said she is confident but not necessarily because of herself, but because she knows God is in her and in everyone. And in honoring herself, she is honoring God. We were made for so much and we all have immense potential because God is in us...
...I think I liked her quote cuz sometimes it's easy to get down on ourselves and be our own worst critics. I think it's part of being human. But when I feel down I try to remember that when I treat myself right I'm honoring God.
Or look at baby pictures and think, like what does that little kid deserve? How should they eat and carry themselves and all of that. And it's so true--we are all here for a reason!!"
When I posted to FB that night, I didn't post expecting to get any answers. I was just venting. Now looking back, I'm so glad that I did. My friend's words resonated very powerfully with me. Facing your fears is not just about "toughening up" or "getting over" something. It's also about recognizing your worth, and doing your best work both for yourself, and for God. Her point about looking at her baby pictures really spoke to me. When we're little, we have all these dreams and big ideas. Think about how many dreams and opportunities you're stealing from yourself, from that little you, every time you tell yourself you can't do something. God planted an idea inside of you, because He wanted to see you reach it. So why are you telling Him that He's wrong?
We've all heard or read this quote SOMEWHERE before. Now, in light of recent events, I appreciate it so much more:
Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people will not feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It is not just in some of us; it is in everyone and as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give others permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.
-Kenziekenzz <3
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