All in Voices
What the Saturn Return brings, let no BS put asunder. Some people blaze a new trail of understanding in your life. When you meet, you discover you have similar laughs and senses of humor. You learn from one another and embrace their family as they’ve embraced yours. I sat down with a bowl of the best ramen in the city to chop it up with the Sauce Lord himself.
Some people pop into your life as a quiet rage. They bring with them a slow burn with a pocketful of matches to light the way to a higher way of thinking. The rage stems from lived experience and the deep desire to teach and learn. Roger contains multitudes worthy of understanding: an ever-evolving being holding the power to meld into different characters at-will. Let’s sit down and learn something new.
In my view, a chronicle indicates that a story is always being reimagined: it may take some turns and pauses, but the story itself keeps moving forward. Lauren and I share the experience of telling our stories on the big stage, surrounded by strangers who have become friends-in-bravery. Recently, I sat down with Lauren to ask some questions.
Dr. Maya Angelou fell silent after trauma. I know that sound. It’s the sound of swallowing words because it’s safer. Stomach acid will protect you but not from memory. Her tale of learning how to speak again shows me how much is possible on the other side of silence.
They say life is not a race, but a marathon. It takes training, a solid will, the tenacity to keep going, especially as all around you begins to disappear. The Runner’s High is said to be one of the most intoxicating feelings to exist within. It’s where the pain of running lifts and you reach a state of euphoria. I sat down to ask Terence about his race long enough for him to catch his breath. Read our exchange below.
The next time you’re drawing an internal blank, stand in front of a bevy of notebooks.
Dick is abundant and of low value.
I deserve peen attached to someone worthy of my time and energy AND who holds my time as valuable because it is. And I don't have to explain why.
Sis (I’m sis) has been traumatized by aint-shit individuals and constantly relearning how to trust herself.
Robin Thicke wrote a whole album named Paula. Not this Paula - another Paula. A Paula that is not this Paula. Because this Paula doesn’t require other people to write sonnets and ill-fated love ballads to her; she writes her own things. And not in a creepy, self-aggrandizing way. I sit down with Paula - again, not that Paula. That’s the other Paula. This is Paula Paula. Anyway, I sit down with her to ask a few non-Thicke questions.
Imma give it to you straight: Ashley Cobb don’t play about shit. That shit being: outdated mindsets towards and about sex, gender roles, sexual expectations, wack sex and pity moans. Fall into the gravity of her Facebook page and community and you’ll find spirited conversations with folk from all walks of life. Ashley is never with the negativity bullshit and I’m happy I got to chat with her about it.
Some people enter your life via IP Addresses. A slide down a timeline can change the course of both of your lives.
As the smoke clears on all 2019 wrought, we see just how far we've come, and I ask that we take the time to acknowledge, really acknowledge all that we've made it through. Because we out here. And dammit we made it.
My work is speaking. My work is writing. My work is empowerment. My work is advocacy. I am as board and specific as I need to be. I sit in hotel lobbies with the room paid for by those who requested my presence. I walk and talk my worth and my vulnerability. I change lives by simply being who I am.
My particular brand of natural hair has always been a battleground for me long before I was aware. Within my strands laid power and animosity, strength and fragility, gainful employment and reprimands. In losing so much, I’ve gained an understanding of myself as defined as my multitextured curls. I am loose and tight, bound and strong, moisturized and never dry.
Last night I broke in my writing teacher shoes. Kristen excitedly told me that I “am officially a teaching artist!”. Imagine your soul hitting the book-lined roof. Imagine looking back at the months of throwing away pages, rage qutting and starting over again. Imagine the culmination feeling like this.
There is no “sorry” in your self-redemption. You take up space and so do your tears.
Give it up for the queens with Qs in their names. We can never seem to hear our names right, and when I first met NaQuetta, I made a point to pronounce her name properly and let her know, “sis, same.”
They both are magnetic magic, making up two halves of a nurturing whole.
“We’re cousins now”, I remember saying awkwardly and she didn’t laugh me off. Years later after losing touch for a bit, we’ve become family.
We began chatting and I quickly learned her personality and sense of humor are not for the faint of heart. She’s the type who keeps you on your toes with sarcasm, quick wit with a dash of honest humility.
Once the smoke cleared from her ears, she began to cuss me out, asking me how am I running so many businesses while hiding behind my gifts and threatening me not to add another thing. She did all this with a smile and level of warmth only an auntie and/or your fave big cousin can muster.
