Good morning! (Afternoon edition)
Okay, so this morning I learned something about myself. I take things very personal and sometimes too personal. I have been told this by others before, but just recently I was told this by a close friend and still didn't get it. But thanks to someone who understood and could break it down for me (I can be a little slow on the way up the hill), I cannot take everything to heart. Other people are going to feel, think and believe whatever it is that they will. I do not have to internalize and make it my issue. I learned that I do this because I love people. I love talking, meeting and learning about them and in turn I want them to like me too. Mmmm...
I paused on that thought. Why? Because, well...wow. That was interesting for me. I feel like I just played back every conversation where I've been in a discussion about something and the other person has said to me, "Why are you taking this so personally?" and my response has been, "I do because this is a personal relationship, not a business deal and I don't understand what you mean." But now, I realize that I want to liked and just because someone does not agree does not mean they do not like you. I feel weird writing this because I believe I knew that, but I didn't realize how much I take relationships to heart.
So now I'm learning to let it roll off my back like water to a duck.
Peace, Detroit Luv & Soooooul!
Monday, December 8, 2008
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
I Am My Father's Legacy
Good morning!
I want to start out by stating that I am often inspired to write based on what I hear...I may hear someone speak a phrase or state an idea and I think to myself about what it is they are really saying. Sometimes I may be off base on their meaning but I can only offer my own take and will hope that you enjoy reading it.
So what was it that I heard lately? In a discussion about Martin Luther King, Jr's legacy, someone made a comment about hoping Dr. King's Legacy will be passed on to a grandson, though there is only a granddaughter at this present time. I think every women in the room gasped a little at the thought of legacies not being passed on from fathers to daughters. I know I gasped because I am the oldest of three daughters. In fact, my little sister was my father's "last hope" for a son. While my mother was pregnant, people would see her with my sister and I and ask us didn't we want a little brother because my parents already had "two gorgeous girls." I find that question funny now because adults weren't really asking us what we wanted, yet they were telling us what they thought we should want...furthermore devaluing us because we were the "weaker gender."
I never agreed with them and always answered with a firm, "No." I now know that my answers were always based on previous expereiences with the brothers of my friends. They always seemed so bossy and mean and I guess I figured I had one daddy and I didn't need another. So really as an eleven year old I had no real reason to not want a brother, I think I didn't understand why others wanted me to want a brother. Maybe I did know that they saw no use in my dad having all girls and no boys. Maybe they saw it the same way my colleague did, that my dad's legacy would die with us. Another memory comes to mind...after the birth of my little sister I began to think about the fact that out of all my grandmother's sons, my dad was the only one who carried her maiden name, Borum. I had five uncles and none of them carried the Borum name. What would happen with our name? Who would carry on the name? It would have to be my responsiblity as the oldest. I would courageously sacrifice my honor and bare a manchild out of wedlock and name him Daniel William Borum for my daddy. (chuckle)
I look back on those moments when my little light bulb thought it had the answers to something so trivial. First, that I was so sure of my honor as a woman at the age of 13. I believed it would not be really accepted by my parents, but I would do this for them because I loved our family so much. Second, wondering why I thought I had to be the one to save our family name. Or that it even needed to be saved.
I am my father's legacy. I am not perfect, but I know that the values of my parents have been instilled in me. I am an educated respectable woman. I believe where I am so far in my young life is a place for my father to be proud of and to be rest assured that his legacy will live on through me and my sisters. Would it have been nice to have a brother to do the yard work I tried so hard to get out of? Well yeah, but it is what it is and today I'm a stronger woman for it.
Peace, Detroit Luv & Soooooul!
I want to start out by stating that I am often inspired to write based on what I hear...I may hear someone speak a phrase or state an idea and I think to myself about what it is they are really saying. Sometimes I may be off base on their meaning but I can only offer my own take and will hope that you enjoy reading it.
So what was it that I heard lately? In a discussion about Martin Luther King, Jr's legacy, someone made a comment about hoping Dr. King's Legacy will be passed on to a grandson, though there is only a granddaughter at this present time. I think every women in the room gasped a little at the thought of legacies not being passed on from fathers to daughters. I know I gasped because I am the oldest of three daughters. In fact, my little sister was my father's "last hope" for a son. While my mother was pregnant, people would see her with my sister and I and ask us didn't we want a little brother because my parents already had "two gorgeous girls." I find that question funny now because adults weren't really asking us what we wanted, yet they were telling us what they thought we should want...furthermore devaluing us because we were the "weaker gender."
I never agreed with them and always answered with a firm, "No." I now know that my answers were always based on previous expereiences with the brothers of my friends. They always seemed so bossy and mean and I guess I figured I had one daddy and I didn't need another. So really as an eleven year old I had no real reason to not want a brother, I think I didn't understand why others wanted me to want a brother. Maybe I did know that they saw no use in my dad having all girls and no boys. Maybe they saw it the same way my colleague did, that my dad's legacy would die with us. Another memory comes to mind...after the birth of my little sister I began to think about the fact that out of all my grandmother's sons, my dad was the only one who carried her maiden name, Borum. I had five uncles and none of them carried the Borum name. What would happen with our name? Who would carry on the name? It would have to be my responsiblity as the oldest. I would courageously sacrifice my honor and bare a manchild out of wedlock and name him Daniel William Borum for my daddy. (chuckle)
I look back on those moments when my little light bulb thought it had the answers to something so trivial. First, that I was so sure of my honor as a woman at the age of 13. I believed it would not be really accepted by my parents, but I would do this for them because I loved our family so much. Second, wondering why I thought I had to be the one to save our family name. Or that it even needed to be saved.
I am my father's legacy. I am not perfect, but I know that the values of my parents have been instilled in me. I am an educated respectable woman. I believe where I am so far in my young life is a place for my father to be proud of and to be rest assured that his legacy will live on through me and my sisters. Would it have been nice to have a brother to do the yard work I tried so hard to get out of? Well yeah, but it is what it is and today I'm a stronger woman for it.
Peace, Detroit Luv & Soooooul!
Thursday, November 20, 2008
My Hair Is Down
Good morning!
So let me tell you a little about myself or really let me tell you about my hair. Like many other black women in the United States, I wore chemically relaxed hair from the age of 14 until I was 31. That's is a super-duper long time to be locked into a certain way of life and believe me for black women our hair is a way of life. Anyway, after growing out my perm for 3 to 4 months I finally cut all the relaxed hair out and wore a little natural. It was so short that all I did was brush it really.
Well that was May 19, 2007 and here I am November 19, 2008 with more than six inches of hair tightly coiled on my pretty little head. I absolutely love it! I am more than confident, I am defiant! No one, I mean not a single soul can tell me how I should look in order to fit in. In fact I feel like I've received more compliments especially from the opposite sex because of my hair. The latter was true up until last week which is the inspiration for today's message.
I was asked if I ever wear my hair down. At first I was really puzzled by this question. What was he really trying to ask me? I thought the question was related to my latest style, which is the same as my picture I included in today's message. I responded by saying that wearing it up is rather new for me...my hair is getting long and I've been experimenting with styles. Usually I wash it put product in it and go, I don't do anything to it...just me and my curly 'fro and I'm out the door. But I soon found out that he was referring to straightening my hair. Meaning do I press it.
Sensing this conversation was going somewhere I wasn't sure if I was comfortable with, I firmly let him know that this is who I am and this is how I like to wear my hair. This is who I am and that anyone who doesn't like it is in for a surprise if they believe they can change me.
So the next time someone ask me about "wearing my hair down" I will respond that it is indeed down with a straight face.
Peace, Detroit Luv & Soooooul!
Monday, October 13, 2008
My I-94 Debut
This past weekend I was fortunate enough to take a road trip to Chicago. It wasn't a long trip or a difficult one, but I was able to enjoy the time on the road alone. It was my first road trip alone, no one to tell me to move over because my feet were pushing her off the backseat of our dad's '76 Chevy Classic Caprice or to stop asking are we there yet and to just sit back and enjoy the ride. Yes, it was me, my 6-disc cd changer and the open road ahead of me. I love to sing, especially in the car. I call these moments in my car when I'm singing my little heart out concerts. I opened this weekend on I-94 to a sold out audience.
It's funny because I've never realized how much I enjoyed driving until I began preparing for my journey. I wanted to have all the right music, snacks, comfortable clothing and shades to make my four hour trip the most comfortable for me. I could always remember my parents preparing a lot for our car trips down south for family reunions. My mom would take my sister and me to Kmart (Target was not in our area at the time) with a list of all the necessary items needed. As ladies, we had to have our toiletries and hair care products. All laundry would be washed to maximize our choices of items to pack. My sister and I would pick out things we wanted to take in the car with us. We'd grab out favorite baby doll, coloring book and choice of candy.
Things don't change much because I did the same for this trip. I packed to be prepared for anything, made a Target run and of course had Swedish fish and bottled water in the passenger seat. I am so glad I took the journey, I now feel as though I'm just another step closer to my cross country journey.
I'm ready for whatever comes my way!
Peace, Detroit Luv & Soooooul!
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