Get Off My Line

"Don't Take It Personal" by Monica

... it's just one of them days / that a girl goes through / when i'm angry inside / don't wanna take it out on you / it's just one of them days / don't take it personal / i just wanna be all alone...

I have a confession.  I created a twitter account...and I love it.  I am not sure what twitter's appeal is, even though I am using it, but I am a little addicted.

I even configured my phone to be able to text twitter an update that will show up online without actually having to go online using my phone, although I can if I want to.  Dope, huh?

Twitter is interesting to me because I like reading the random thoughts people have.  What one says on twitter is without parameter so people "tweet" random existential questions, observations, opinions, wishes, etc.  It is quite interesting.

And then there is the feature of tweeting "@" particular users or commenting on #trending topics within the twitter community.

I follow CNN and NPRnews on twitter which is great.  I get little snipbits of information about particular issues or occurrences with links to a more explanatory site.

Tweeting is very much of a guilty pleasure for me.  I have been complaining of late how technology is taking over my life and making me anxious.  Between texting, email, and phone calls coming through my phone, I feel tied down to something.  Every time I move, my phone must be accounted for so as not to miss anyone trying to reach me.  I am a slave to the thing.

I have to be 100% available 100% of the time.  If you don't answer a person in a timely manner, you must be dying.

But really, I just don't want to be that available.  When the phone goes off, I almost always check it of course, as some situations are more pressing than others.  When a friend is having less than satisfactory day, we converse and I provide encouragement.

However, of late, when the phone rings, I am immediately anxious.  I have so many people and things I participate in my life that seem to be constantly reaching out to me, constantly needing me.

And I feel so bad.  I feel obligated to answer and respond all the time, so as not to offend anyone or neglect anyone or skip out on my responsibilities.

I almost want to get another phone number and only give it to the people that I don't mind texting, emailing, talking to...the people who don't make me nervous...so that I can turn the other phone off and enjoy silence and peace of mind.

I can't wait to visit Sierra Leone and leave all electronics behind and live in the quiet we have disrupted with technology. 

...a simple kind of life...

Tear Asunder Your Illusions

 "Off The Wall" by Michael Jackson

...you can shout out all you want to / 'cause there ain't no sin in folks all gettin' loud / if you take a chance and do it / then they're ain't no one who's gonna put you down...


I took my braids out yesterday and washed it to reveal my natural little afro.  I was quite excited.  I can't really explain how I felt other than liberated.

I felt free of a lot of toxins, free of a lot of expectations, and free of a lot of nuisance.

I am sure that people will respond to me differently.  There is something considered to be intimidating or even haughty about natural haired women.  Women with natural hair are typically "conscious" and consciousness can sometimes connotate a haughtiness.

But I don't think haughtiness is accurate.  Something happens in you when realize how much the institutions of this civilizations lie to you, how impossible they try to make it for the common man, how they distract you so as not to allow you to notice the emptiness of this life and try to fight against it.  So you may be angered, irritated, underwhelmed with your life, frustrated with the blind people around you.  Maybe it is haughtiness.  Whatever.

Nonetheless, I felt electrified.  I know some people won't find me as attractive.  I know that certain type of men won't approach me (Hallelujah).  It's amazing, really.

I do feel a little self conscious.  I have lost the lustrous curly stands and other Caucasian knock off styles that people admired.  I miss the hair on my shoulders in some moments.  However, as I transition into this person who doesn't give a shit about what people think of her, who is doing it for Africa (everyday), who wants to let go of this materialistic, disillusioned, inauthentic, convoluted way of living to return to complex simplicity, who is preparing for daughters and the story of beauty I will be and teach them, I also gain confidence.  I'm happy to be natural and know what I know and to have realized what I have realized.

Lastly, it's just hair.  It is just a protein filament that grows out of our heads.  Civilization and culture happened and it became a way of expressing something, which is fine.  However, as usual, we have taken it too far.  It is a mode of expression but it is not our only mode of expression.


So Zainab, do what you do with this new do.  You are beautiful.


Zainab --> doing it for Africa since 1987.

Roll Up My Sleeves and Fight for You Girl

 "Backtight" by Jaheim

...ain’t nothing stopping me from getting backtight with you / go head and trip you got the right to / if I gotta roll up my sleeves and fight for you / i’ll stand outside in the rain all night for you

School is out.  The semester is over.  I took my last exam on Wednesday afternoon and it was a stellar performance, as usual.  I earned more B's that I would like but I did work hard most of the time.  I found it difficult to balance my extra-curricular activities, that arouse so much of my passion in helping to fix the world, and doing schoolwork.

I recognized that my academics were important, as I have been taught my whole life, but I am recognizing that my service to the community is much more important.  The issue, however, is that my academic work, achievement, and licensure will give me more tools to serve my community on a larger level than my current volunteering and action allow.

Therefore, I persevere.


I am so proud of myself.  I think that so much has occurred and so much growing took place.  I hate cliches and I hate to sound cliche, but...


I am quite different from who I was four months ago.  And it was only four months ago.


My family and I reconnecting, apologizing, spending time together, supporting each other definitely made a huge difference in my psyche.

It didn't cure anything, but it made it possible to bear some of the ills of my life and my mind.  My Mommy validated much I had been feeling and hypothesizing about the points of contention between us.  Because we never sat and discussed anything without arguing and attacking each other, we lost the details of the issue.

We argued about stupid and irrelevant things all to communicate our dissatisfaction with each other.  All we had to do was say we were dissatisfied, but communication has always been really difficult for us.


The war between the Dr. and Mrs. versus me is over and that has lifted such a heavy, heavy weight.


Then the beautiful Black womyn I met this semester and reconnecting with the beautiful Black womyn I already know was a nourishment like no other.


Afrikana Student Organization and OMSA's Womyn of Color Discussion group have been my church on campus and through it I met Charity.Velma.Ariel.Valerie.Brittany.Amanda and they have literally changed my life...they way my Christina.Brittany.Ravi.Gwenny did and continue to do.



Although age carries me closer and closer to the center of my "Africanness" (as Shahedah has dubbed it), spending time with people who are also being carried closer has made my carriage that much sweeter.  We all recognize answers in Africa.  Not that problems are not rampant, corruption is not real, poverty is fictional because all of those things exists...

But that Africa has resources...and we are a few.  And we want to encourage other Black people, all the people of the Diaspora to be resources for Africa, on the continent and off.


Thirdly, I started therapy.  Going to therapy is like putting on corrective glasses and seeing what you have been missing all along.  Taking what I learn in therapy seriously, improving my life by improving how I think of myself is like getting lasic surgery to improve my sight permanently.  I will do that.


And then I actually got glasses because I am near-sighted and have astigmatism in some eye...and I've been walking around missing all the details of the scene.


Lastly, I am working on my self-esteem.  It is hard to do because it is such an abstract concept that is developed without one's awareness.  How do you catch or gauge when you are growing up that [this], whatever it is that you are experiencing or enduring, will cause damage to your self-concept?  Self-esteem seems to develop in us, without us, informed by the people around us, most of whom are old enough to know the events of now nourish or deplete my self-esteem later.  But somehow, they overlook it too, and you are left, an adult, maybe self-loathing, and inept at thinking in any other way.


But I am working on it.  It sounds strange [mainly because I am strange], but I think of "self-esteem" as myself as a little girl.  When I am talking to myself, thinking to myself, I try to be careful what I say to myself by imagining that I am talking to a child.  I love children like I love God.  My service to the community will always be predicated on what I am leaving and providing for the children of the world, who don't ask to be born and are expected to assume all the pathologies of the world they are born into.


So I talk to [me] as (me - 17 years = selfesteem).  When I make a mistake or do something I am unhappy with, I reprimand myself appropriately, recognizing that the [little girl: self-esteem] wants to be a good person and is trying her best.  She is young and unwise, willing to learn, but always human and imperfect.  She lives, she learns, she does it better next time as long as it doesn't kill her this time.  And it usually doesn't.

Give so much time to the improvement of yourself that you have NO time to criticize others.

 And I have to be willing to do that for myself too.