on hope

For the first time in a while, I am hopeful.

Let me explain.

I used to be so scared to lose hope because someone along the line told me I wouldn't find it again. I thought that hope was like a charm, small enough to fit inside your pocket. You had to make sure it was secure at all times because once it was gone, it would be excruciatingly hard to retrace your steps and find the little charm. 

I can't really pinpoint when or where I lost my pocket charm but I did. Maybe it was during covid, or maybe my freshman year of college. I didn't even bother retracing my steps either. It was gone. 

So without my hope, my purpose got a little blurry. I couldn’t see the light at the end of the tunnel in a lot of things. I hated movies that required the main character to have hope to solve their problem. Because they had it and I lost it. I stopped looking for solutions to problems. Maybe I even believed there were no solutions. To my core, I am not a pessimistic person. Promise. 

I am sitting here writing this blog post with the most excited heartbeat–I have a hopeful heart. I see the light in everything there doesn't even have to be a tunnel. Whoever told me that once hope was gone it was lost lied to me. I have a new outlook on hope:

Hope isn't a pocket charm it’s more like a boomerang. It always comes back. It finds its way back to you. My hope has come back to me after who knows how long. And I had forgotten how good it feels to be hopeful. 

With hope, I can find solutions. Sometimes in the classroom, they say, “there is no answer to this really big question” or “there might not be a solution.” But in the amount of time it took for the teacher to finish their sentence, I’ve already found a couple of possible solutions. I’m hopeful as hell. 

Too often they say “just don’t lose hope,” as if it's the worst thing to ever lose (it's not, losing your purse is worse). But I lost it, then it came back, and I learned a lot in the process (life is one big classroom isn’t it?)

If you are hopeless, your boomerang might be on its way back. It always does.

laying with my laundry (prose)

I take my clothes out of the dryer immediately after the buzzer goes off.

I love how my hoodie holds onto the heat

and the muted aroma of the detergent my mama told me I should use

Today I threw my freshly dried clothes onto the bed and cast myself into their warmth.

While I lay in the linen,

I contended that this is my femininity.

I have some power here in this pile.

He always told me that doing the laundry was my job.

Maybe that's why I never did it.

Laying in my laundry made me realize that I do find joy in doing the task they say the women should do.

There’s something about a cycle that I understand so well.

I go through like 12 of them a year.

I lay in my laundry knowing that I completed another cycle. And I did it well.

I lay in the clothes that they stared me down in

I washed their gaze off of my linen.

Now I can breathe a little better.

I’m not mad at my mama or aunties for asking if I did my laundry

They knew how to lay with it before I did

I wish I learned sooner.

observation (prose)

Some formulations and combinations of words (sentences, paragraphs, whole works) speak to us so deeply and profoundly that we read or say them over and over.

About a month ago I listened to a discussion panel (on youtube) in which bell hooks formulated a combination of words into one of the most profound thoughts I have come into contact with so far. I replayed the part where she gives us this knowledge more than once.

That combination of words is as follows: 

“were you the observer or the subject of observation?”

Wow. These words have given me some clarity and description of the life I have lived so far. This blog post is my reflection.

I have been the object of observation my entire life.

I have been considered (or tracked) as a “gifted” student since first grade. This put me under the eyes of watchful adults. I was always in the hands of the red pen. It seemed that from a very young age I was observed not because of my ability, but observed to see if I could actually keep it up. From that point on, my life became a proving came. Everything I did was to prove something.

I think I was also observed because of the intersections of my race, centeredness, and my intelligence. Going from a public middle school to a predominantly white tuition-based high school put a high-powered magnifying glass over me. Once again, the question of “could she keep it up?” kept their eyes looking through the magnifying glass. In high school, I used to think of myself as the figurehead of my race and gender combination. There was no one else in my class who was able to speak about being a black woman in america. Now, having the language to call myself “the subject of observation” I would change the word ‘figurehead’ to ‘test subject’ or ‘specimen.’

 I question whether my presence was the entrance for those after me.

And athletics (this is the part where I talk about basketball). 

I see the court as “on display;” the audience behind a looking glass. Yes, basketball and sports, in general, are performance-based, and that warrants judgment, statistics, and opinions. But I can’t help but feel that my environment, Duluth Minnesota, hadn’t witnessed a player like me (in all of my racial and emotional centeredness) before and that made me even more sought after for observation. 

I am coming to this realization. 

And

I am questioning.

How long can one be observed before it’s too much? Have I ever been the observer? Do I even possess the power plus privilege to be one? Was I a fascinating subject of observation at least? Will I ever be able to escape the observation table? What does it feel like to escape observation?

The simple option is not quitting basketball or hiding under a rock.

I am actively rejecting (and not focusing on perfecting my rejection) the idea that every decision I make is being judged by my observers (who are usually my oppressors.) 

In lieu of that idea, I am pursuing a life rooted in freedom. 

Freedom to come, freedom to go.

Freedom to stand up, freedom to lay low.

Freedom to dance, to cry,

Freedom to say “fuck it” and not answer why.

So, have you been the observer or observed?

summer in prov

For many reasons, I chose NOT to go home for the summer as most college students do. This decision really changed me for the better. Here are some things I learned during my Summer in Prov:

1. It's OK to romanticize your life.

Very early on in my childhood, I began comparing my living situation to my friends and those I saw in the media. I guess I had it made up in my head that my life wasn't glamorous, and therefore couldn't be romanticized. Well, I am here to tell you that when I started romanticizing my life, the constant weight I felt on my shoulders disappeared. It was like I lived in a faraway time and a faraway place, where I wasn't grace. Call me crazy, but it felt like I was Providence’s princess. I romanticized everything. Even the things you think aren't even capable of romanticizing. Riding my bike to Walmart. Going to the flea market. Taking a shower. Getting ready for work. Eating by myself. There are people who will tell you not to, but I think there's nothing wrong with romanticizing your life. In fact, it makes you fall in love with your life even more.

1. Talk to everyone, you never know who you’ll meet.

In the most random places, I met incredibly successful and insightful people during my time this summer. Those weird places including outside of a tattoo shop, my jobs, on the street, and on an airplane. I owe a lot of credit to my dad for this lesson (that I didn't grasp until now) but a closed mouth was never heard. Do you want people to hear you and know your name? Open your mouth and say it. No one else will say it for you. I can now say I have a web of people in Providence that I can call up for anything! Job recommendations, travel partners, life advice, coupons!

1. I can survive off of $40 of groceries.

Here was my grocery list that I stuck to pretty much the whole summer: 

A half gallon of milk, a dozen eggs, butter (tub), yogurt, tuna cans, 99-cent bread, generic cheese slices, rice, mayo, and lunch meat.

This would last me a week and a half. Was it repetitive? Yes. Do people live off much less? Yes. That fact alone made it much easier to eat a rice, tuna, and cheese bowl for 5 consecutive days. I learned to only buy what I need, and be thankful for even having a meal. Plus, I was pretty impressed with how creative I could get with so few items. 

1. The sun is your friend.

Most days I had to be up at 5:30 am. Of course, I wasn't super thrilled about that. But, what made it easier was thinking about that big bright ball of fire that woke up me. And she still shined. So I really had no excuse not to. 

1. I really like long skirts??

I bought two maxi skirts for Genteach (we had to dress business casual) from the thrift store. I'm pretty sure my mother had begged me to wear one at some point in my younger years (and I probably did) but I totally forgot how COMFY they are. Plus, they are flattering! You don’t have to show a ton of skin to feel feminine and sexy. I feel that they elongated my legs and held my figure. Plus, it’s such a power move to lift up the skirt a bit and walk. I feel like I'm on the red carpet.

1. Traveling alone is awesome!

I went to Washington D.C all by myself for three days before I started Generation Teach. I took the six-hour train ride and stayed in a Sonder in Alexandria, VA. From the moment I got off the train, I felt a sense of freedom and liberation that I can only attribute to being alone in a new place. No one needed anything from me. I wasn't on anyone else’s time. And I could decide where to eat. 

Plus, there was something extremely powerful in being in the same place where so many monumental decisions and events in history happened. Especially when something monumental and powerful was happening inside of me. I tried for a long time to write a blog post about how amazing my D.C trip was but I couldn't find the right words. I guess that experience will just be sacred and only known to me. 

Those were the main takeaways from my summer. While I didn't go to a faraway country and lay on a beach every day, I found people and places that filled my cup. I am proud to say I spent my summer in Providence, RI. It’s the place where a little coffee shop is on every corner, where all different people with all different backgrounds mesh and create one big beautiful community. Providence was home to this MN kid and I wouldn't have had it any other way. 

Here’s to Junior year!