Today I was rejected from a workshop I applied to and I can feel that familiar hurt folding me into someone a little less bold. For years, I let rejection (and the fear of it) reduce me into rubble, crumbling any determination I would build into so much detritus. But not again. Not this time.
A wrecking ball only destroys if you place yourself in front of it, if you stand still while the specter of pain becomes too bulbous to avoid and you are overcome. But, hat tip to Miley Cyrus, if you ride that broad, swing on the momentum of having believed in something you desired, even after losing it, and let that energy push you to the next project?
There are only so many Nos you can hear before that YES comes along like a hallelujah chorus. Here is to my next YES. Let’s ride.
This is a love letter to Black women, my sisters. I have never loved anyone quite as hard as I have loved you. This is not to say that I have not loved others well or loved them deeply, because I have. But loving you is hardness, requiring the density of commitment fortified by an enamel of truth. This love is jewelry decorating the wrapping of my skin–I could no more remove it than I could unzip my blackness, fold it, and pack it in a suitcase.
I know living in this world in your skin is no picnic. Because you are more than breasts and thighs and ass; they can nibble at your three piece but never lay claim to your biscuits. They will try to consume you, nibble at the meat of your magic until they spit out bones, but they will never grind you to gristle: You carry the marrow of Nzinga. They can reduce you to angry, hot gravy, thick and brown, but never pinpoint your savor. They try to pluck your femininity, call it oversexed. And always, you scratch back when bitten. You are fly, love, but you ain’t never been chicken(heads).
I never expected to fail National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) so spectacularly, but here we are, 21 days into November, and I have about 500 of 50,000 words written. Yes. The failure is that great. Sure, we have nine days left in the month; there’s still time! But no, it’s not happening, and I know […]
I began stealing from my grandma three years ago. When I realized that one day I would not be able to wake up and find her sitting in the kitchen, watching a 13-inch black-and-white television, I needed something concrete. I needed something tangible to slow the slide of time that had pushed, like a loose […]