Freedom Starts in the Mind

Every great dream begins with a dreamer. Always remember, you have within you the strength, the patience, and the passion to reach for the stars to change the world. - Harriet Tubman

Charleston is one quaint town that I love to visit. It seems as if every tree, stone, house and building has a story connected to it. And, boy do I love stories. Recently, I found myself taking a few days of R&R in my favorite spot. (Other than seeing my aunt Sophia and her husband at my hotel all the way in a different state and quickly sneaking out the door to avoid a confrontation - everything was pretty much R&R - see blogs about family.)

My friend and I visited Boone Plantation. As the sun glared angrily down at us, we could just about imagine the miserable lifestyle of the slaves working in the field. I said, "just about" because we were merely walking around the plantation and not doing heavy labor. Brick slave cabins still exist on the plantation (the wood shacks were destroyed during one of the hurricane seasons). The bricks were handmade by the slaves and if you look closely you will find finger impressions in the bricks.

We walked through the cabins and it hit me, "Slaves lived, breathed, birthed babies in this very place. I'm standing where they stood, wept, dreamed and loved." One of the cabins was excavated and they found the bones of animals that were buried. They questioned, "How could slaves live off of the meager food rations - nutrition wise - and perform all the labor demanded of them?" They hunted and buried the leftover bones under the cabin floor so that the master wouldn't find them.

We also visited the Slave Market, where they brought the slaves, housed and cleansed them for auction. This is where I broke down crying and had a break through.

As I touched the walls that my ancestors were shackled to I wept for them and for me. I thought, "How dare I question my gifts? They made so much progress with limited resources...they fought so hard for freedom...MY FREEDOM. I have to do all that I can to live up to my full potential. How dare I question if I'm a good enough writer to go to graduate school or how could I afford it! I have to do it, for me and for them.

I freed a thousand slaves I could have freed a thousand more if only they knew they were slaves. -Harriet Tubman Free your mind!

We live in fear daily: How can I afford it? What if I fail? What if I don't get promoted? How can I do this? If our ancestors lived in constant fear and worry, we wouldn't be free.

There's an old saying, "We stand tall on the shoulders of our ancestors." Yes, I'm standing tall, working on my manuscript to get to graduate school to write words that will motivate minds. I'm standing on the shoulders of Harriet Tubman, Frederick Douglas, W.E.B. DuBois, Sojourner Truth, Nat Turner and the unnamed hero's who shed blood by the lash or put fear aside and pushed for liberty.

I am turning forty next month and I have to show some growth this year in my journey. Me loving myself, pushing myself to reach my full potential, live life without regrets and fear is my goal. So yes, I'm free to live - live my best life now! It is not my desire, it is my destiny!

Eleven years ago...

Eleven years ago I found myself in labor pushing for hours. As Sienfield made its way on the television, my daughter's head began to crown as if she knew I regularly watched the series and wanted to make her debut to watch it with me. The pain I block out, but I do remember the nurses saying, "How did itty-bitty you give birth to such a big baby?" Secretly, I was a little insecure to have such a bib 8 lb. 8 oz baby since it was always said in amazement as if it was a bad thing.

Now my little-big baby has grown to such a tall, thick legged eleven year old. My, my, my how time flies. I remember how she used to play in my shoes. As of last weekend as she scurried to find character shoes for her production of Beauty and the Beast, we discovered that she could no longer fit my shoes. Her feet have surpassed my size 7.

I fell in love with her ever since the seed was planted in my womb. I used to talk and play with her as she formed her tiny limbs and body. She was a part of me as much as I was a part of her. Actually, she was sent to me to save my life. She has made me settled down to build a home instead of running from place to place. She has given me permission to open my heart and love, when I convinced myself that it was okay not to receive or give it freely.

Eleven years have gone by and I have learned a life full of lessons since there hasn't been a book written to adequately prepare a single mother for motherhood. I'm not perfect and will never will be. But, we're a team. Recently I was asked, "what inspires you?" I thought about it and responded, "My daughter. I live to pursue my dreams so that she can know that she can do anything she puts her mind to. She can say to herself, 'if mommy did it, so can I.' I want her to be proud to call me Mom."

I desire to plant so many seeds of greatness inside of her because she is my legacy. Twelve years ago, I would never have considered being a parent. But, as I look over the last decade of my life, I'm so happy that she chose me to be her mother. My life would have been completely different without her - whether better or worse - and I wouldn't change anything.

For the first five or six years my mantra was, "I can't believe I'm a mother." Now, it's changed, "I can't believe I'm a mother of an eleven year old." Soon it'll be, "I can't believe I'm a mother of a teenager...college student..." Time, please stand still so that I can rock her in my lap and watch her sleep one more time.

I just lost one...

"Who me? What?" I mouthed to the hunk of man on the cruiser in the left turning lane. He signaled a "hi" and gestured about me pulling over. This took me back to my highschool and college days when guys flirted with girls and let them know that they were desirable. Ohhh the days. I was flattered to be checked out on a hot day plus being sweaty from working out.

Biker man navigated his way out of the biker lane and followed me to Target. He seemed a little charming, but again I could have been so flattered that in my now past youth days that I'm still being flagged down. Or, it could be that I was taken aback since men in Charlotte won't utter a single compliment to women even on our best Halle Berry-everything-is-tight day.

We exchanged numbers and as on cue he asked, "Where's your man?" Cute, same line guys used since the 70's. "I don't have a man," I said. But, I did tell him that I had a friend.

Biker man wore my phone out! It quickly went to, "I miss my boo," and "My baby is smart!" Whoaaa big fella, it's way too soon to be labeling me as boo and baby. Big turn off! So, I backed off a little. I have to admit it would have been cool riding on the cruiser or sailing on his "boat" (if that was true.) However, my antennae was sensing something strange and I had to acknowledge it.

Finally, I told him, "Listen, I can't give you the time that you want. I won't leave my daughter at home alone to come meet you. I won't bring her to meet you because I don't introduce her to guys I've just met. And, to be honest, I'm just really busy with the direction my life is moving. So, don't wait for me, go do your thing." He quickly told me that he wasn't waiting, but he just wanted to see me. (Yeah, okay.)

Over the holiday weekend, dude called me over and over. Men, don't do that. Women, don't you dare do that!!! Don't keep ringing someone's phone until you get them. Give them a chance to call you back. Ugh! I was never given that chance and I was irritated. He must have called not once or twice, but about 8 times over the weekend without me calling back. Beyonce's "Diva" played out on my iPod and I said, "Okay B, let's do this."

I called dude back (he had just called me twice, back to back again) and told him, "Hey, I was busy and saw how many times you called. You don't have to call me over and over until you get me on the line. When I'm not busy, I'll call you back. That's irritating and overwhelming. And, when I feel overwhelmed I back away..." He tried to interject something about telling my man to stop taking up my time and that he just wanted to see me or something stupid like that. "Listen, I'm feeling overwhelmed," I continued. "So, I don't think...hello?"

Dude hung up on me... What the? Do men in their 40's still hang up? Ha, apparently so.

Okay...am I up for trying new things?

I said that I was going to be open to trying new adventues this year especially as I turn the ripe beautiful age of forty. But, the real question is how far will I go? I'm being real transparent as I write this blog and am surprised at myself for even putting this info out in the world. But, for one year I decided to blog honestly.

Okay, I got a phone call today from someone in which I usually ignore. Why? Because I know that it could be dangerous for me and  potentially lead me into an arena that I am not sure that I want or even ready to tackle. Okay, let me preface this by admitting that I previously wrote about dating someone as long as he wasn't fat. But, what about white? Woud I date someone outside of my race? Latino, yes! But, a white guy? I've never been attracted to one before especially as I've poured over many pages of my history as I majored in African-American studies. Oh yeah, I thought some white guys were cute, but just never imagined myself dating one.

Fast forward, this guy calls periodically. I met him a while back while working on a project. One day after working, we went out for drinks and while walking to the parking lot, under the shadows of the moon he kissed me. He didn't just peck me, but he kissed me passionately. The type of kiss that Oprah talked about when discussing Zora Neale Hurston's Their Eyes Were Watching God. If you don't know what I'm talking about, rent the movie and watch how TeaCake (sexy Michaeld Ealy) kissed Janie (Halle Berry).

I ignore his calls because of that kiss. It scared me. Its been a lonnngggg time since someone seemed passionate about me as if they wanted to take in the very essence of me. Or, kissed me like nothing in the world at that very moment mattered, except me. And, that's what he did. I have to admit that I replay that memory in my head like a movie from time to time. Hmmm? Do white boys really have it going on or was it a fluke? I'm not sure but I do love my brotha's, but will I ever be open to anyone outside of a Black man? Is it just a hang-up of mine that I need to get over?

I asked many friends if they'd date outside of the race? Many women said that they were open to it. But, were they just words or truth? I've heard the arguments and debates of shortages, being open to whomever God sends you, blah, blah, blah... To be honest, I never really applied these arguments to myself because those other races never really paid attention to me so it was never an issue, or made real. However, now that I wear my hair natural, I've gotten looks from the other side. It's flattery, but I ask myself again...am I up for trying new things?

Big Mama is Back! This Sunday at 4 PM...