The Unfair Burden of the Strong Friend

6/21/2018

“Check on your strong friends.” That sentence sweeps social media every time a new suicide hits the news. People suddenly urging each other to go check on the “strong friend”, as if the “strong friend” shouldn’t have been checked on before. People worried that the one who displays the least vulnerability, may be on the headline of the next news article. Friends hurrying to text their “strong friends” because they’re now forced to acknowledge that the people who portray contentment may not actually be content. People suddenly reminded that the “strong friend” endures, too.

I despise the rhetoric of the “strong friend”. I wonder what the standard of the “strong friend” is. Who the heck is assessing a friend's strength or weakness? Are they 'strong' because they keep things bottled up? Are they 'strong' because YOU don't see what they're enduring? Are they 'strong' because they help you with your mess?

I was the strong friend for most of my life, and I was not being checked on. I was contacted when problems arose; reached out to when people were emotionally distraught and had nowhere to turn. I was the friend with the best advice and the most attentive ear. But I wasn’t very strong at all.

I was the dumping ground for my friends’ problems. I was the one who carried their burdens the best – showing the least bits of weakness and smiling through the most amount of pain. I wasn’t strong, I was hiding.

Being the “strong friend” wasn’t an honor nor a reward. It was lonely. The friends that came to me most didn’t have the decency to replenish me. Time after time I poured myself out to lend advice and counsel to women and men who didn’t have the capacity themselves to return the favor. After a while I stopped expecting reciprocity. Instead, I carried the burdens they laid before me, along with my own. I didn’t speak to anyone about what I endured, because I knew it would yield nothing. No advice, no help, no support. That didn’t make me ‘strong’, it made me heavy.

I embarked on every new friendship with the idea that everyone would be the same. Every new friendship I started would take more than it provided. I didn’t trust the friends I had to counsel me or love me properly, and consequently I wasn’t open to being vulnerable with them.

I forged friendships based on fun, rather than actual community and companionship. And when I happened to stumble upon a friend who would listen, I replicated the unfairness placed one me – pouring out my burdens for them to pick up. Ironically, this friend usually came in the form of a boyfriend. I placed an unfair expectation on my partner to bear the brunt of most of my issues, and placed an unhealthy dependency on our relationship. My man was the only one who listened, and would care enough to express concern, support, or counsel. In my head – apart from my immediate family – my man was all I had.

Oh, how unhealthy it was to build a young relationship based on need, rather than desire.

Oh, how ironic it is to fall into isolation, loneliness, and depression because you’ve been improperly dubbed the “strong friend” – by force, not choice. Being considered “strong” wasn’t my desire. I wanted to be open, I wanted to be vulnerable; but the hand I was given was strength. I wasn’t allowed to have problems. I wasn’t allowed to share my struggles. The same friends that respected and allowed their self-perceived ‘weakness’ to pour out, didn’t honor mine.

The struggles of strong friends are often discarded because we “handle everything so well”. Because we’re “always smiling”. Because we “always know the right things to say”. Yet no one acknowledges the pressure that weighs on us because of it.

Strong friends feel alone. Not because we don't have people in our corner, but because those same people in our corner are the ones adding luggage to our already heavy load.

I've grown to be okay with the reality that most people won’t know how to help. Most people are so caught up in themselves, that they’re okay with taking and giving nothing back. And, you know what, I’ve become okay with the reality that part of my purpose is to be a listener; to provide counsel; to encourage growth. However, my purpose is not the “strong friend”. It does not require my hardships to be dismissed. It does not require me to bear the burdens of those who choose not to recognize the ones I’m already carrying – the ones that actually belong to me.

It’s been a conscious effort to form healthy habits for building friendships. The truth is, I only recently started welcoming the idea of new friends and readily acknowledging the importance of friendships – after having been in so many unhealthy ones. I’m just now learning how to lean on people in healthy, constructive ways that foster nurturing and are rooted in support and care. I’m just beginning to learn to tap into the friends who selflessly remind me of their presence – while having to unlearn the narrative that people don’t care.

It took immense toxicity for me to realize that the relationships that forced me to be strong were everything but actual friendships. It took depression and defeat for me to connect with the strongest friend I have, Christ, and learn how to be a better friend for others and myself; for me to learn when to step up for them and when to sit out; for me to recognize when to carry the luggage, and when to lay it at Christ's feet; for me to discern when to provide counsel and when to simply provide prayer.

They say check on your “strong friend”, but how about going a step further. How about deciding to stop unloading everything onto them without pouring something in. How about stop placing an unfair burden on your friends by giving them a label they may not want to uphold. How about creating a space for your friends that welcomes and honors vulnerability and transparency. How about you stop leaving your “strong friends” to fend for themselves. And how about you just be a friend…to all your friends…always.

The burden of being the strong friend is incredibly heavy and unfair. It starts a cycle of toxic friendships and unhealthy relationships. We want to be there, we want to help, but we also need reciprocation. Our “strength” doesn't reduce our humanity. We still hurt. We still endure. We still cry. We still fight. And it's not okay to use what you perceive a compliment to rid us of our realities.

Signed,
A former “strong friend”

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When Mum's The Word

5/21/2018

It's been 15 days since I've written a new post. 15 days of existing in a moment, without thinking about how well it'd be received if I shared it. 15 days of just being. Absorbing for the sake of my process rather than for a post.

Living.
Learning.
Existing.

Though, seemingly neglectful, it's been a beautiful 15 days. So often I get wrapped up in trying to find creative ways to turn my days into lessons that others could learn from, that I forget to enjoy the process of them.

This is fun work. I enjoy turning my introspection into reflections for others. But sometimes, in doing so, I miss opportunities that allow myself to just be. I want to create so much, so frequently, that I forget that some lessons are simply for my own consumption—not everyone else's.

As I continue on this quest of minimally published content in May, I'm choosing to honor these moments. I won't try to push anything out of me, nor will I exploit my self-work by exposing it all to this outlet. Rather, I will just be. In this moment. In this space. For the rest of this month (or however long this work takes).

Thank you for understanding.

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#TEATIME

Where's Our Protection?

5/06/2018

"I don't appreciate you talking about my girlfriend," he said as he aggressively approached us about what he felt was disrespect toward his white girlfriend. 

He was black.

His girlfriend had been staring at us for about seven minutes now. Watching us laugh, giggle, and tell jokes to each other. It made her noticeably uncomfortable because in mid-joke she began pointing at us and whispering. I hadn't paid much attention to her, but my line sister saw her gestures and mentioned it to me.

"This girl over here is pointing at us. Maybe I know her," she questioned. I looked at her and doubted the possibility of them knowing each other. She seemed much younger than us and looked completely unfamiliar. We continued our conversation.

A few minutes later there we were, staring in the face of an upset black man who approached us about his white girlfriend who seemingly had an issue that we were enjoying ourselves in her predominantly white space.

We hadn't said anything to her, or anything disrespectful about her. My line sister explained that. He didn't care. In fact, it seemed like he was more irate that we didn't back down and submit to his anger the first time. As though he thought him approaching us would've rendered an apology that he and his girlfriend thought they deserved.

"No one was talking about your girlfriend, sir. She was pointing at us and we couldn't figure out why," my line sister responded. "Goodbye," I added. 

We stood our ground. Confident. Secure. Not displaying anything close to how threatened we felt.

"I'm from Jamaica Queens, we don't get down like that," he continued.
"What is that supposed to mean?" I inquired.
"I went to Cornell!" he exclaimed as if that explained why he was still in our face defending an offense that never happened.

We were both confused by the direction of the conversation. Was he seeking validation? Was he trying to impress us? Did he want us to submit to him because he thought his attendance at an ivy league institution made us feel inferior? Was he trying to repair his ego?

"And?" we both replied, cackling at the hilarity of what the situation turned into—a black man vying for approval from the white folks around him, or perhaps from the two black women he apparently hated: us. Shouting his resume as if people were going to put down their margaritas and give him a hand clap. As if that part of his resume was impressive enough for us to back down; for two accomplished black women to awe over his achievement of getting into (but not graduating from) Cornell.

His white girlfriend approached us to simmer the situation.

"I didn't send him over here," she said to two unamused black women who simply wanted them both to disappear from our presence. 

"Sure you didn't. Your white fragility is what inspired this man to approach two black women because for some reason we made you uncomfortable." My line sister decided to read her her rights. She looked dumbfounded as she struggled to find words to say to a response she clearly hadn't expected.

"Just go away," we responded.

Surprisingly that wasn't the last, nor the worst, of our interaction. As we shooed them both away, we dedicated the following 2 minutes to settling back into ourselves. We debriefed and moved forward.

Unfortunately, he couldn't do the same.  He returned to shout more insults at us as if he had felt defeated that we didn't cower the first time he spoke. He blurted out every ill thing he thought of black women.

"You're from the projects!"
"That's why y'all don't got no men."
"Nobody wants y'all!"
"This is why people hate black people."

"You're still mad?" I asked, taking him even further over the edge.

"I'm a f*cking millionaire," he responded. "But your shirt is wrinkled," I reminded him. 

"I'm better than y'all. We're better than y'all!" he angrily shouted. 

"But you came up to us," my line sister emphasized.  

He stormed away, forgetting that he approached us in the first place; upset that she reminded him.

My anger immediately turned to disgust as he displayed an undeniable hatred for blackness—both ours and his own. Neither of us had ever seen this man in our lives, but suddenly, in a fit of rage, he knew everything about our lives. Because we were assertive black women unamused by his anger, we had to be from the projects. Because we were enjoying our black womanhood with each other, we must have been single. Because we made it a point to ensure he knew that we were unbothered by his girlfriend's white fragility, we were the reason people hate black folk. Because we wouldn't submit, nobody wanted us.

How convenient for him to spew every bit of hatred toward us, simply because his girlfriend was uncomfortable with our presence. How impressive he must've thought he was to be in a predominantly white space, being disrespectful to two black women he had never met in his life. How strong he must've felt to have protected his girlfriend from two black women who were minding their own business. 

Black men: When black women share their disdain for black men who date white women, it's very seldom about their dating preference, and more so about the frequency of which black men forget they're black men. The fact that, your white partner's whiteness somehow makes you feel like you have the same privilege. That your closeness to whiteness, somehow makes you more powerful. More desirable. Like they have a different level of respect for you, than they do the rest of us. That at some point in your relationship, your loyalty and alliance lies in their whiteness, more than your own blackness.

While that may not be everyone's tale—I'm sure there are plenty black men who are very keen to (and dare I say, love) their blackness despite who they date—it certainly seemed to be the story of this man who dedicated at least 10 minutes to disrespecting two black women who were relishing in self-love and sisterhood.

In that moment, I experienced a man who needed validation from the white people surrounding him, not by being a good person, but by attacking the very black bodies those same white people despise. Spouting out stereotypes about black women that were untrue and irrelevant to our existence in that space.

All of a sudden, two strong black women that he had never met, were worthless stereotypes to him.

But what was most disheartening was while we were being shouted at by a black man who may have needed more black love growing up, there was another black man who stood about a foot away from us who said and did nothing. He watched from the sidelines as we were being disrespected and didn't offer a single "chill out man" "relax" or "are y'all okay." He offered no sympathy or condolence. He simply watched the interaction with no ounce of emotional tie to any of us.

It's baffling to me that our black girl joy made his white girlfriend so uncomfortable. That her discomfort made him so upset. But it was more appalling that the black man standing next to us cared nothing about our safety, as black women, to even intervene. Our peace is endangered. Our joy is threatening. And our mere existence is discarded time and time again.

While this may have been the first time for me, plenty of black women have been on the other end of similar situations. I've heard personal testaments to how ruthless and flippant black men have been to black women. I've read articles of the abuse that occurs when black women threaten the black male ego. And I am completely exhausted with all of it.

The burden of protecting, providing for, loving, nurturing, and healing black men is constantly placed on the shoulders of black women, however when the same is needed for us, black men are absent—or in this case, silent. Why is it that we are constantly asked to better our black male counterparts, but we're not afforded the same luxury. Our entire existence is so upsetting to white people and black men, that the only people we have to fend for us, is us. How unsettling it is to know that no matter where we go, we are among the most hated beings in the world.

It's a chilling reality, yet when we speak about it we're man bashing. When we share our lived experiences we're spreading hate. When we worry and question the lack of love we feel from our black brothers, we're trying to destroy the black family. People are more bothered by our expression of those experiences than they are at the fact that they're happening to us.

I usually have uplifting things to say in moments like this. Part of me wants to encourage us (black women) to continue to stick together in times like these. I want to remind us that there will be moments where no one is on our side, and in those moments all we have is each other. I want to inspire us all to love on each other. To not mind our business when it comes to us, but to stand in the gaps for each other. To advocate and support each other. To enjoy, and honor, and respect each other. To nurture, and heal, and protect each other—because no one else will.

And the other part of me is just pissed. I'm pissed to have experienced such hatred from a black man who was pushed out of a black woman. I am so disturbed by the lack of support and protection by the other black man who, no matter how much he tries to dilute it, may one day have a black daughter. I am bothered by the countless other stories I've heard from women who've experienced something similar. And I am disgusted at the countless black men who feel their behavior is okay at best, and commendable at worst. 

There is absolutely nothing I can say to mask the disgust and offense I felt in my heart last night. I am hurt and disappointed at the carelessness black men have for black womanhood. I am saddened by the reality that black women can't even exist without being disrespected, berated, harassed, bothered and/or threatened. And I am curious to know how long it'll take for black men to stand by us as fervently and lovingly as we do them.

I guess I'll see that next lifetime.

Note: if you're a black man who was offended by this post, perhaps you're one of the ones that need to do better to honor and support black women. Instead of taking offense to our lived experiences, you should assess the ways in which you tear us down—by thought, word, or deed—and work to eradicate the self-hate you promote. To those who are already doing their due diligence, I respect and love you. To the black men in my corner who have asked for his picture and offered to school him the right way: thank you. Despite what anyone says, we need you. And while the current climate doesn't want us to relish in our togetherness, I will always acknowledge that fact. 

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Silencing Social Media

4/25/2018

The bondage of social media has become increasingly detrimental to our mental health. Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, Vine, Snapchat - and everything else those 'young folk' use - have been ushering people into debt, self-loathing, and depression. There have been countless articles about such cases: social media users going into debt to appeal to their followers; users who've allowed the pressures of social media (and the very present reality of social media bullying) to drive them to depression and/or suicide. As great of a tool as social media can be for brands, businesses, and artists, it can tear us apart individually. 

Even if the role social media has played in our lives aren't as drastic as the above, we all can admit, that since its inception, social media has played a role in our pursuit of validation, our goal-setting, and quite possibly, our self-destruction. 

We're constantly exposed to people's portrayals of success (however accurate or inaccurate they may be) and compare ourselves to those we see. We create #RelationshipGoals, #BodyGoals, #CareerGoals, #FriendshipGoals, and #FoodGoals based on the messages other people are posting. We want to be like them even if we don't know them - and when we fall short, we consider ourselves failures. We begin to assess ourselves with a lens that isn't ours, based on the lives other people live. 

We consume this content for hours each day and wonder why, when we log out, we're unfulfilled, invalidated, and insecure. We spend more time observing other people's lives than we do living our own. This is bondage. We are directly controlled by the influences of social media. Our decisions, actions, and thoughts are dictated by what we see on these platforms, and we've become so reliant on them that it's become hard to break free. Social media, in many ways, has become an addiction - both for the people pursuing a life of perfection, and the ones falsely portraying that life. 

Don't fret, though. This post is specifically for you. Here are a few habits to help you break bondage, and silence social media...for good.

Be gracious with the unfollows. So often people think you should only unfollow people you don't like, or who don't serve a purpose. This couldn't be any more untrue. I've had to unfollow many people who do serve a purpose, but who I've spent much time comparing myself (or my brand) to. People who, every time they appear on my timeline, I'd feel insecure or lose confidence. People who, every time they appeared, I'd say something bad about in an attempt to uplift myself. Those habits aren't rooted in anything healthy, and when I noticed these thoughts I knew I had to get them (the thoughts and the people) out of there. Not because I didn't like the people I was unfollowing - most of them had incredible hearts and posted wonderful (authentic) content - but because I was treading the thin line between admiration and hater-ation (and we can't have none of that in this dancery). 

The truth is, any person, place, or thing, that makes you feel discontent with your present place - consciously or subconsciously - deserves to be unfollowed. Any person, place, or thing, that heightens your insecurity deserves to be unfollowed. It's not out of hate for them, but out of love for yourself. The unfollow doesn't have to be forever, but it does have to be for now.

Take breaks when necessary. There is such a thing as social media burnout, even if you use it as a platform for business (there's a reason automated systems were introduced). Too much of anything can be bad, so it's important to give yourself a break from social media. Whether it's one day per week, or one month per year, taking a break gives you time to recenter yourself and actually experience some of the things you post about. It gives you a lengthier duration of time to reflect, reset, and refocus your energies and existence. Social media can be 'noisy', so giving yourself a break from that helps provide mental clarity and the silence you need to regroup. 

Taking a break also sets you free from the strongholds of social media. It gives you time to breathe, and reduces the opportunities you have to compare yourself to someone else.

Monitor your use. This is critical to avoid the over consumption of people's social media fallacies, and their destructive effects. Instead of spending more than half your day on social media, dedicate only certain hours to it. This allows you to get on for the reasons you need, and nothing too additional. Monitoring your use forces you to be intentional about your use during those moments. Not having 5 hours a day to surf social media statuses, helps you focus more on what you're actually using it for. If it's for engagement, you better engage with the people you need to in the time allotted. If it's to post information, well, get to it! This time constraint helps you stay focused on the matters at hand, rather than the endless abyss of people's lives.

Don't engage if it's not authentic. Social media metrics have changed so much over the years, it's hard to tell what will get you seen and what won't. Currently, many of the metrics are based on engagement. Posting a million times a day will no longer get you to the top of people's feeds, but engagement will. Social media sites are now providing its users with the things they want to see, based on the posts and accounts they engage with the most. (And by the time you read this, this metric may also change). This means, you must engage with your audience. 

This isn't particularly a bad thing, but for some it means forcing dialogue. My advice: don't force dialogue. If you find engaging is more of a task than a natural response, don't do it. No one on social media - not even social media itself - can make you do anything. Especially not when your mental health is on the line. Engage with the people you want to engage with, not out of necessity, but out of desire. Start conversations with the people you want to start conversations with. Like and retweet the things you want to. Stop placing an unfair burden on yourself by feeling like you have to respond to everything, or be friends with everyone. Your social media is just that, yours. Don't feel obligated to use it in the way the metrics are mandating, especially not if it takes you from who you are at your core. Social media is not worth selling your soul for. Continue to be authentic, with both your engagement and what you share, and people will find you. 

Stop the idolatry. #RelationshipGoals. #BlackWomanGoals. #HairGoals. Sure, goals are great to have, but when our goal is to emulate the people we see on social media, we quickly find ourselves in the land of idolatry. If there are social media lives you're obsessed with, stop obsessing over them. I know, it seems like a no-brainer, but you'd be surprised how much time you spend fixating over that one person's post, or searching for their page because you don't follow them but want to keep tabs anyway. People only post on social media what they want others to see. When we idolize what they show us we miss a huge part of what's really happening when the phone's turned off. Stop allowing what people post to dictate the satisfaction in your own life. Stop comparing what they show you, to what you actually have. 

Start by reducing your search from 5 times per day, to 2. Then from 2 to 1. Then, none. Block them (if you must) so that you're no longer able to see their posts. Do something that will help you quit the bad habit of searching and indulging in their lives. 

Recently, I've been thinking a lot about freedom and how it manifests. I've recognized that one of my most enslaving habits is my use of social media; it may be yours too. If freedom is liberation from all bondage, then addressing social media bondage must be included to ultimately free yourself. 

You may not feel like you're bound by your social media usage, but I urge you to truly assess your use. Do you check your account every 5 minutes because you're afraid you may have missed something? Do you compare your photos to others? Do you wonder if your life seems exciting enough, or do things to make it more exciting? All these behaviors are toxic. Living for the approval of others can be damaging. And publishing your life, every second of ever day, can certainly threaten your freedom. It's time to lose those chains. 

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life

Lessons from Yoga

4/17/2018

Last week I tried something completely new in honor of my girl’s birthday: hot yoga. Now, I’ve done yoga a few times before, in the comfort of my living room, while using the Yoga App on my 4G Apple TV. Entering the studio, I was no expert but I was certainly no stranger to yoga poses, nor the 90+ degree heat - I take biweekly trips to the sauna because I’m a summer baby, and heat is life. But, I’d be lying if I said my inexperience didn’t lend to some nervousness walking in.

As we entered the studio I was delighted by its temperature and the encouraging presence of the instructor. It wasn’t as stuffy as I had originally thought it would be; in fact, the heat was refreshing. I grabbed a mat, some blocks that I never used before, and a cushion to alleviate some of the anticipated pain from my knees being on the hard floor; It was do or die at this point.

We began with warming up using easier poses, and quickly snuck off into the land of intermediate yoga. I could’ve sworn this was a beginner’s class. About 20 minutes in I was dripping in sweat and had to put my glasses to the side because they were slipping off. At certain points in the session, Instructor Josh spoke inspiration ever so softly while walking around the room making sure our form was right. One of his themes for the night was that we are already equipped with exactly what we need for where we are in life. 

This is an idea that I firmly stand on, and even wrote about (you can read it here). Josh spent a lot of time reminding us that the expertise of those in the room won’t be ours, and that’s okay. That, we ought to settle in contentment for exactly where we are. That we ought not complain or be dissatisfied with our place in life, but rejoice that we are constantly growing and will one day be where we hope to be. This was powerful as I looked around the room at the more experienced yogis. It was motivation for me through the various breaks I had to take when the poses became too challenging, or my hands started slipping off the mat. I held onto those nuggets and made it through the hour-and-a-half-long hot yoga class that felt more like 3 hours.

As the instructor turned the lights completely off and left us with his final words, I couldn’t help but to feel more accomplished than I ever had. “You have all you need,” he said. I let that rest in my spirit for the rest of the night.

I was so proud of having made it through, despite the breaks I had to take or the modifications to the moves. I was encouraged by having pushed my body in ways I never before had to. I was empowered by actually conquering the workout — on my own terms. It was a beautiful feeling, and there were beautiful lessons that came as I reflected at the end of that session.

1. I can get through anything. I know we say it to ourselves all the time, but how often do we really feel it? In that moment, I felt it. I walked in to that room confident, and twenty minutes in that confidence faded. However, that didn’t stop me from actually trying to make it through. In fact, my exhaustion/weakness midway, made me want to push myself harder. I was determined to make it through, and I did all that I could to do so. If we navigate our everyday lives with this same motivation we could achieve so much. If we recognize that everything is a process, then we allow ourselves the grace, and the patience, to accomplish what we set out to — on our own terms. We truly can get through anything we commit to, and there’s tons of beauty in pushing through to that desired end.

2. I can get back up. It doesn’t matter how often we fall, we can get back up just as many times. It doesn’t matter how often we need to modify our route, or slow down a little, as long as we get back on the path. I had to adjust myself and take a few breaks during that session, but when I felt like I could tackle it again, I got back to it. I didn’t care what anyone thought of me stopping, and I didn’t care what anyone else could do - I simply stayed true to my own ability; my own process. We are all well on a long journey toward destiny, and we will all get there as long as we keep getting up. The road to success isn’t about getting there with no mistakes, it’s about getting there — period. So get up, and get there.

3. It will get harder before it gets easier. I hadn’t expected that during class. I was certain the the more poses I master, the easier the next pose would be. I thought that with every inch my body stretched, my body would easily transition to the next one. I was fooled. The more the class continued, the more exhausted I became. I grew frustrated that the session wasn’t over. I was tired of my hands slipping from the sweat, and drained from the way I’d been contorting my body for the last hour. I wasn't sure when the class would be over, but I knew I was ready for it to end. That seems to be a steady theme in life. The closer we get to the end of our tunnel, the darker it becomes. The closer we get to victory, the tougher the battle gets. This was a physical manifestation of that, and it’s no coincidence. Every bit of your journey toward triumph has that final moment of pain, or exhaustion, or temporary feeling of defeat. Before you apply for the job of your dreams, you may go through hardship in your current job. Before you free yourself from relational bondage, you may experience drama in that relationship. Before you’re healed, you’ll experience the very draining process of shedding your layers. Nothing good comes without a trial before it. It’s unavoidable. Just know, that when you feel like it’s darkest, you’re on the brink of breakthrough; stay the course.

4. I am victorious. I was created to win battles and conquer this life. When starting the class I knew I would finish; leaving midway through wasn’t an option. I hadn’t forfeited my $20 to quit. I hadn’t worked that hard to give up 30 minutes in, 45 minutes in, or even an hour in. The more tired and frustrated I became, the more I knew I had to finish. And when I finished, I felt more powerful than I ever had. I pushed myself and my body. I stuck with it. I was committed. I paced myself by paying attention to my body—my journey—not the one of those around me. I stayed focused on me and my end goal: making it through. And because of that, I saw it through. It would have been easy to get up and leave. To sit in the corner until the class finished. But I kept going. I kept fighting. While I’d love to encourage you and say that victory is guaranteed, it isn’t. Victory is only achieved by those with the willingness to see their journey through to the end. It’s afforded to those with the gall to keep going. It’s gifted to those who worked hard and trusted themselves enough to get through it. I did just that. As challenging as it became, I kept my eye on the prize. I stayed focused, I saw it through, and I conquered. I will remember that feeling for every battle I endure going forward. I will remember that high for as long as I’m in my right mind. I will hold onto it for every hardship that comes my way. Because I am willing to fight, and I will be victorious.

I knew yoga had healing properties, but I had no idea I’d walk away with lessons as powerful as these. I felt more motivated than ever walking out of that 90 degree room. I felt ready to take on the world and conquer every battle I foresee. But for now I’ll simply settle for another hot yoga session.

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You Read the Devotionals, Now What?: Three Ways to Retain Lessons From Devotionals

4/10/2018

The internet is filled with tons of free resources. For every e-newsletter you sign up for, there’s a free e-book, resource guide, or toolkit to help you with whatever that brand caters to. Even DEAR QUEENS is coming out with a devotional-esque workbook, to help you tap into better parts of yourself. Free resources have become a marketing tactic for many; and an easy, yet effective, way to give back to others. However, what the heck are you supposed to do with all them?

Sure, these free resources, workbooks, and devotionals are amazing, until we realize that we don’t remember a thing we’ve learned from them. We could read all we want, but if we're not retaining the information, shifting our thought processes, and actually putting into place what we've read, what good are they? 

I'm here to help. These three tips can help you retain and apply the lessons you receive from those great free resources. 

Meditate: Before you even begin your devotional, or workbook content, pray over it. Ask God to illuminate the things that are most relevant to what you're enduring or will soon go through. Pray for the ability to interpret the lessons in the most appropriate way. There’s dire importance in praying about the information you’re about to digest before you actually digest it. It allows what's meant for you to leap off the page, and makes it meaningful to your specific situation. 

Dedicate: Be committed to spending time fully digesting the content you read. It's easy to print out a resource and read it, it's another to print it with the full intent to dive in and digest it. To apply it to your life and figure out the ways in which it can make you better. Reading a passage may take you five minutes, but identifying creative ways to make it applicable and practical to your life may take longer. Dedicate yourself to finding the time and space to do that. Give yourself a half hour to an hour to spend time with what you're reading. Don't rush through it — take notes, highlight, and reread the sentences that resonate the most with you. Think critically about the passage or chapter after reading it, then read it over again. 

Fixate: rest your mind on the topic at hand. After you've read it, continue to think about it. Think about it with every interaction, every situation, and every big moment that comes of your day. Find a way to recall yourself back to the reading. Write the key points on a post-it note and take it with you. Put it on the wallpaper of your phone. Screenshot and review it every hour. The key to remembering material is repetition. Fixating your mind on what you learned in your reading will help you retain the lesson. Repetition will help you remember, and remembering will help you live what you just learned. Put yourself in the position to live the content you just read. Refer back to that day's passage in all you do, so you can begin forming habits that actually create change. 

Are there any other ways that have helped you retain the information you read in devotionals? How else have you been able to effectively apply the content in your life? Feel free to share in the comments below. 

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growth

Where Are Your Goals? Losing Your Fear of Failure

4/04/2018

Since the year began, I've been spending a lot of time reflecting on what I want to see manifest in 2018. I've been paying particular attention to the ways in which I want to see my creative vision and my brand grow. I've been rattling off ways to measure impact and effectiveness, and have been defining new standards of success. In doing so, I was faced with a reality that I hadn't been able to confront until now: DEAR QUEENS hasn't seen much growth in a while.

Truth is, I haven't seen exponential growth recently because I haven't been working toward anything. I've been keeping my head above water, but not swimming in any particular direction. I've been coasting; surviving. And simply surviving doesn't create lasting impact or generate success—it simply allows me to stay afloat. 

I spent most of Q1 reflecting on life, love, work, freedom, and healing. Much of this time was dedicated to the internal work, and in submitting myself to that process of addressing behaviors from the inside out, I wanted to identify why I've been so content with merely staying afloat. I wasn't setting clear, actional goals for myself, and I needed to know why. I pressed myself about it until I uncovered the truth: fear. 

I wasn't setting goals because I was frightened by the possibility of not achieving them. I was afraid of what I'd tell myself if I didn't reach the views I wanted or the impact I worked hard for. I was worried about having to deal with the next level naysayers, and the voices in my head wondering if I was actually good enough to change people's lives. I was holding myself back because I didn't want to be slapped in the face with the feeling of failure, rejection, or inferiority.

I realized through reflection and truth, that if I wanted to go to a new level, I had to be clear about what that new level looks like. I had to identify where I wanted to end up, and what steps needed to be taken to get there. Because I accomplished so much so early—much of it by happenstance—I didn't know where to start. I stumbled into a blog award in the first year of creation, I impulsively launched a podcast and successfully pitched a radio show to a gospel radio station, and event ideas fell into my lap through alignment with God. I hadn't written any of those plans down, rather I executed them before I could talk myself out of it. But with such an incredible streak of unordinary success, accomplishing new tasks, and honestly, adding more things to my workload, I became fearful of whether or not I could accomplish anything else. 

What else was left for me to do? The obvious answer was: a lot! But not having been in a position to have to carefully etch out my brand's future, I wasn't sure where to start. I wasn't sure if I was capable of "the grind" that people romanticize. I need my sleep, and I wasn't willing to risk it!

I was worried that capturing my goals would make me responsible for them. That, at some point, I'd have to hold myself accountable for the things I'd write down. And that's when my fear set in. 

The goals themselves weren't what made me hesitant to commit myself to them, it was the reality of actually having to grind for them. Being strategic about how many conferences and workshops I'd have to host, how many vending opportunities I'd have to pay for, and how many e-mails I'd have to send—it was all increasing my anxiety. Up until this point, I've only had to write, speak, and digitally engage. People sought after me; but I knew, that this brand could not sustain itself for much longer operating in that way. 

While, writing, promoting, podcasting, and consistently creating content is legwork enough, there was an entire grind that I wasn't tapping into. Getting my name, face, and brand in the minds of people I don't know wouldn't come naturally; it would take actual effort. I'd have to catch the attention of people who don't follow me or aren't familiar with my work. I'd have to attend events and put myself out there to establish myself as a thought leader in this space. I wasn't doing any of that, but I knew I needed to. And I needed to be very strategic about what I was working toward while doing so. 

Writing my goals down would remind me of all that work, and I wasn't sure I was ready for that. That commitment was frightening me. If things didn't work out like I'd imagine, I'd feel so defeated. 

How would I greet myself each day knowing the stress my to-do list would bring? How would I look myself in the mirror, knowing I crossed nothing off my list of goals? How would I face myself knowing I failed at the very thing I was so passionate about, solely because I wasn't passionate about the means of attaining the greatness I desired? And with all of those pressing questions, I was also faced with wondering how I'd feel if I let this fear and anxiety keep me from the destiny awaiting me. How would I feel about watching my dreams drift away because I was too fearful to write them down? Because I was too afraid of failure to even try?

I can't speak for everyone, but maybe that's where your hesitation comes in too. Maybe, like me, you're not only frightened by your grand goals but also frightened by the amount of work they'd require. Perhaps you're selling yourself short because you don't have the capacity to execute anything additional. Perhaps you, too, are fearful of what your goals will demand of you. Perhaps you, like me, have chosen to sustain what you've built, rather than soar into new successes, because you're unsure of what the next level will bring. 

Perhaps, this is the moment you change all that. 

Change requires reflection. It requires action after reflection. It requires solution-based action. And the only solution to beat fear is to do exactly what it is you're afraid of. To step up and think big, anyway. To write down those goals, anyway. To create your strategy and tactics, anyway. To host those conferences and plan those workshops, anyway. To sell shirts and books and journals from the trunk of your car, anyway. To send countless e-mails and draft hundreds of pitches, anyway. To apply for opportunities and pursue mentorship, anyway. To write, anyway. To create, anyway. To try anyway. To put one foot in front of the other, anyway. To fall down, anyway. To get back up and fall down again, anyway.

Because the only way you'll ever learn the right things to do, the right goals to set, and the right way to manifest your dreams, is to do it all, anyway. The only way you'll drop your fear is to do everything that scares you, anyway. It's more than just positive self-talk and obedience to God, it's doing the stuff. The stuff you're most fearful of. The stuff you've avoided for this long. The stuff you never wanted to confront. 

Failure is inevitable. 
Success doesn't happen on the first try. 
People learn more from doing things wrong than they do from doing things right. 

Drop your fear, and fail. Give yourself room for error, and learn to identify the lesson in every bit of it. Teach yourself to find the beauty in every missed step, and take the time to regroup when you must. But do it. All of it. Every bit of it. Because regardless of how many times you fall, or how many times you fail, you will reach success, anyway—but you must first drop your fear.

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PODCASTS

PODCAST 025: Use Your Power

4/01/2018

So many of us rush through life to get to a destination, without ever truly embracing the journey necessary to get there. We forfeit our power to respond to life in the ways that are most effective for us, and simply allow life to happen to us. It's no wonder we feel so defeated so often. 

I urge you to think differently. To grab life by the lapels and hand it what it warrants. 

Providing three ways in which your power can be used to manifest the life you deserve, this episode urges you to reassess how you respond to life's journey, to experience self-defined measures of success, satisfaction, and fulfillment—and encourages you to tap into your unnoticed power.

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freedom

How Being the Smartest in the Room is Doing a Disservice to Your Growth

3/25/2018

They say if you're the smartest in the room, then you're in the wrong room. This past weekend I was able to fully digest that thought.

In a world where almost everyone aspires to be thought leaders in their field, it's hard to find anyone willing to not be the smartest. Demanding respect has come on account of appearing to know it all. With the rise of social media, people go to great lengths to portray excellence, even amidst great brokenness. It's as if the only way to secure your space in such a competitive market, is to be the smartest. To know it all. To be all things.

When a group of high school friends and I planned to get together for what we called a Think Tank, I was excited to be in a room with others who were passionate about pursuing purpose outside of our workspace. Three of the four of us were working on building non-profit organizations. Having worked in the non-profit sector previously, I knew that there was loads of guidance I could offer; I wasn't quite sure the same could be returned.

I am the only content curator in the group. The only one whose brand isn't mainly rooted in programming, but in upliftment through the use of story-telling and principles of spirituality. See, my work is slightly different. Aside from my holiday homeless initiative, much of my work is about breaking down people's walls and rebuilding them—internally. The self-work I inspire is hard to capture and much harder to explain. I wasn't sure how my friends—who all dedicate their brands to giving back to the community in ways that are much easier to track, through financial and in-kind contributions—could offer me counsel for a brand that essentially does the opposite.

Regardless, I went in with optimism. As we all went around the room and explained what we were up to, I was reminded of the differences of our approaches. Listening to my friends share their programming ideas and fundraising goals was both exciting and discouraging. I didn't have anything so grand; shoot, I was still struggling to identify ways to measure impact (which is my biggest assessment of whether or not my content is actually producing change in the lives of women).

I walked in thinking I'd be the smartest—or at least like I'd have the most to offer—based solely on my previous knowledge and experience in non-profit work and their unfamiliarity with the realm of content curation. I left, however, appreciative that I didn't. In fact, after our meeting, I felt like I needed to head back to the drawing board, to address my inability to capture the essence of my brand, something I had no idea was a problem of mine. I couldn't break down DEAR QUEENS with confident clarity like my friends could with their endeavors. It was in that realization that I recognized the beauty of what we were doing. 

Despite them not knowing much about content curation, they were able to provide insight that I'd long needed. Insight that I probably wouldn't have received anywhere else but in that room. 

My friends unknowingly inspired me to dig deeper into a brand that I swore was already complete. They unintentionally pushed me to ask myself the hard questions, to truly uncover what in the broadness I really wanted to conquer. They unconsciously motivated me to be very clear about the direction I wanted to take DEAR QUEENS, and the ways in which I was going to take her there.

None of us were the smartest in the room that day. None of us knew more than the other. None of us offered more or less—we all simply offered different.

As much as society wants to encourage you to know it all, you simply cannot. You'd be doing a disservice to yourself to fill your room with a bunch of people just like you, doing the same thing as you, knowing the same thing as you, for the sake of having a conversation rooted in similarity. There's much more insight in our differences. There is far more wisdom in our diversity. There is incredible growth in our ability to tap into our individual experiences and expertise for the sake of sharing with others. And once you eliminate your desire to be the smartest in the room by accepting the dissimilarities of your associates, you'll be able to experience the true beauty of collaborative thought and constructive feedback.

When you're the smartest in the room—or at least when you perceive yourself to be—you shut yourself off from learning. You deny yourself the opportunity to connect with minds that can take you to new heights. You refuse yourself the resources needed to grow yourself, and/or your brand. You assume that no one in the same space as you can offer you anything additional. And as flattering as it may feel to already be equipped with all the knowledge you need, you risk being stagnant by not exploring the thoughts of others. By not allowing your ideas to be questioned, and holes to be poked in your theories. By not wanting to be exposed to new thoughts that could improve your own.

So never rush to be the smartest in the room just so you can secure a seat at the table. Instead, recognize that your greatest contribution lies not in being the 'smartest' but in providing a different perspective. Learn to rest in the beauty of not being the 'smartest', and welcome insight from others. And learn to be okay in spaces where everyone is just as smart as, or smarter, than you. Because sis, great lessons are learned there.

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growth

What My Career Change Taught Me About Trusting God's Positioning

3/08/2018

In May 2017 I started a new career. Breaking from my academic and professional background in marketing, communications, and community engagement, I dove head first into student affairs. I shamed both my degrees and began utilizing my transferable skills in a brand new environment: higher education.

I was excited to begin inspiring change at my institution, for the sake of creating and improving the graduate student experience. I was ready to fully embrace this new professional passion.

I joined Facebook groups, attended local conferences, and participated in discussions with other entry-to-mid-level professionals. None of that, however, equipped me for the way I'd feel in this new role.

After months of hard work, and doing tons of work above my title and experience level - all while thanking God for the ability to dominate and conquer any task put before me - I still felt like I had no idea how to navigate this new space. There were new people to network with, new lingo to adopt, new types of conflict - none of which I was quite sure how to manage.

I knew that I was strategic enough to handle the work; I was well-versed in event planning, strategic development, resource development, and had a certain 'umph' for identifying and resolving high-level problems. But there were things in this new space that I wasn't too sure of. Polices and procedures that, outside of common sense, I wasn't sure were ethical in this new field. Research that I had no idea about, that dramatically impacted the transition from student services to student affairs. Researchers whose work was what many SA offices based their work around, that I was not keen to. A new bureaucracy that I had to figure out - vastly different from the municipal and non-profit bureaucracy I was used to. Things that, when interviewing, I was led to believe my leaders would teach me. Hint: they weren't teaching me a thing. 

Regardless, I carried on everyday putting my best foot forward, and opening myself up to learning new things, and generating creative ideas. I was left to my own devices to be brought up to speed on all things student affairs - including the most common themes and challenges. I had to both identify common trends in this new field, and identify ways to either implement them, sustain them, or modify them to be more effective for our unique student base.

I started by thinking critically about my why, believing that once I figured that out, I could begin teaching myself things that mattered most. I identified why I wanted to, in the long haul, improve student support for students of the African diaspora, not just through academic and social resources, but through holistic approaches to student wellness and success post-grad. I wanted to provide minority students with access to resources and opportunities from the minute they accepted admittance, to the minute the accepted their degree. I held onto that why for dear life, constantly reflecting on it through every stage of this new process. But despite my thirst for learning, and my big ideas, I often found myself questioning how I'd get there. How would I one day make it in this big space, to my dream position, without any educational background or real professional footing? 

That question still replays in my head from time-to-time.

Being in a completely new career field than the one I was academically and professional prepped for, I've been grappling with the reality of not knowing how to position myself in this new space. I've been struggling with feeling unqualified to serve in the positions I desire most. I've been wrestling with whether or not I will ever be a thought leader in a space I hadn't ever imagined being in. I've been wondering if the work, without the research, would be enough to sustain myself professionally, as I attempt to climb the ranks. Am I enough for this new field, or will I, at some point, find myself way over my head? 

As I've been whispering these questions to myself silently, God has been responding to them - loudly. In this season of transition (in more ways than one), God has been calling me to trust His positioning.

See, when I started this job, I had no prior experience in the field. I applied to the position on a whim, because I was fed up with where I was. Upon starting my last position, I knew the route I wanted to take was student affairs. I was, at the time, working with alums, and knew that their engagement as alums, relied heavily on their time as students. I wanted to make the student experience so impactful, that as they transitioned to the working world, they'd always remember the institution that served them for however many years. So when this coordinator position popped up, I jumped at it. Though I had no experience in the work, I got the job; and since starting, I've been working my butt off to prove myself worthy enough to be there. I hit the ground running and have gotten experience in my first few months, that some people in similar positions may never get. I wasn't upset at the workload, I was invigorated. I wanted to do more. I wanted to grow more. 

It's not until I recall these moments - moments where I have flourished beyond my own belief, in a field I had no prior experience in, recommending, creating, and implementing dynamic new programs and resources - that I find myself most affirmed in my ability to go further in this industry. It's in recognizing God's strategy, that I realize that this position - and the people I work for - isn't by happenstance. It's God's reminder to me, that I am equipped, and that I can do it. It's only in understanding the pressure placed on me and successfully thriving through it, that I truly realize the unique calling I have to do this work.

In between battling myself about my ability, and speaking with God about my position, there were a few things I needed to know to navigate myself with confidence. I had to recognize that, regardless of my educational and/or professional background, what I may think of my ability to serve in this new field, and the networks I do or do not yet have, God's plan will make room for me. That, whether I have the credentials or not, God's will will manifest. That, whether I feel adequately prepared or not, God's way will always reign supreme. That, no matter how many questions I ask myself about this new professional pursuit, God will always take me to the place that is meant for me.  And that's something that impostor syndrome can never take.

My position in this space has nothing to do with my qualifications but my calling. And, regardless of what job descriptions say, I will always be granted the opportunity to serve in the place God has called me to. The thoughts that infiltrate my mind are irrelevant to the moves God is making in my life, professionally and in every other area. And for as long as I say 'yes' to Him, He will always put me in places that allow me to tap into my true power.

God wanted to remind me that His positioning is what matters most in this - and any - space. That any place He puts me, is a place worth being. And that I need nothing else but obedience to get there.

This reminder is all I needed to recognize that me forging my space in this new field is God's work. It provided me with a confirmation I needed to revisit, that I am exactly where I ought to be. It gave me an assurance that no matter what I may endure here, I am equipped to handle it. And it settled me with a Christ-like peace knowing that whatever space God has planned for me next is already mine.

So to you, an outsider to wherever you may be right now...To you, who feels unqualified and undeserving...To you, standing at the crossroad of uncertainty and self-proclaimed incompetence...To you, in a very new space, unsure if you'll make it, I want you to know that you will. I want you to remember that God has strategically placed you there, and has purposefully equipped you for that place. I want you to identify God's calling for your life, and never forget that He will bring it to fruition. And I want you to know that you are not an impostor, you are positioned.

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Christ

From the End Goal, Backward

3/01/2018

I recently read a career article that shifted not only the way I thought about my career trajectory, but the way I thought about my life. In an attempt to learn more about my new career field, I wanted to know the best tips and tricks to navigate through this very new, very unfamiliar place.

"Identify your end goal, then work backward." It seemed pretty straightforward; figure out where you want to end up, then identify what it will take to get there. It was simple, yet effective. Duh! I whispered to myself. There was something so profound about that simple suggestion, yet I was alarmed that I hadn't thought of it myself.

Many times, at least in my own experience, I apply to jobs that I think would best suit me, without forging a clear path to my end goal. Part of that was because I was still exploring where exactly I wanted to end up. The other part was filled with uncertainty of if I'd actually ever end up there. But this advice provided clear strategy: identify what you want, identify how to get it, then do that stuff. It couldn't get much easier than that - at least not at this level of planning. Recognizing that our plan may not always be the plan, this was a good starting place to be well on my way toward professional success and fulfillment.

I hadn't expected this same premise to flood into a strategy for pure salvation, too.

In a conversation with my union-rep-turned-sister-in-Christ about career progression, I referenced the article and was immediately slapped with an unignorable revelation.

What if we approached our salvation in the same way? From the end goal, backward.

While many of us pursue salvation for different reasons, our desired end goal should be the same: eternal life in heaven. Every bit of our self-work, our prayers, our refinement, our ministry, is to lead others and ourselves to a thriving relationship with Christ, with hopes of one day experiencing eternal freedom with our Creator. What if we strategize for this pursuit the same way we do our careers - by identifying what we want, and discerning how to get there?

What if, every day you woke up, you thought of your end goal, eternal life in heaven, and only did things that would get you there? What if you allowed that thought to dictate how you handle life? People? Temptation? Obedience? What if you used that very powerful goal, to establish your life's plan?

Much of this spiritual journey is about changing the way we think. So many of us feel burdened by Christ-like living, that it appears to be more like a prison, than a pursuit of freedom. When we don’t see immediate results from dedicating ourselves to Him, we are quickly (and easily) disappointed. But if our end goal is eternal life, we must recognize that it will take a while to get there and none of us should rush to that fate. Instead, we should fix our minds to live for this goal. We should carry ourselves in a manner that supports this pursuit. We should navigate ourselves with this at the forefront of our minds, fixating our thoughts, words, and deeds only to things that would bring about this end. We should cast to damnation everything that goes against this goal, rebuking our flesh and operating, instead, with a pure heart and the Holy Spirit.

Just like you wouldn't sell yourself short for your dream job, you shouldn't sell yourself short for eternal life, either. Pursue the Kingdom or die trying. 

So as you continue to pursue salvation, identify purpose, and work toward an unshakable relationship with Christ, I urge you to consider whether the people, things, and habits you're entertaining are advancing you toward your goal. I advise you to reflect on whether or not your decisions and behaviors will grant you access to God's kingdom. I encourage you to reflect honestly and openly about the destiny your current life is leading you toward. And I implore you to identify if any of it is worth it; if the sex, or the lies, or the gluttony, or the greed, or the theft, or the hatred, or the anger, or the foul tongue, or the loose lips, or the bitterness, or the pride, or the lust, or the disobedience, or the envy is worth forfeiting your end goal.

Much like my career strategy changed after reading the initial article, my strategy for intentionally sustaining my salvation and managing my purpose shifted, too. I thought less about how my obedience would make me look to others, or make me feel internally, and focused more on how thrilled I will be when I enter those pearly gates. I stopped fighting God's plan, and started accepting it delightfully. I aligned myself with people and activities that would glorify and please God. None of this is without fail, though. Changing habits and attitudes take work. But beginning that work is imperative.

So as I accept this revelation as an opportunity for renewal, and reconnecting my heart to God in a new and exciting way, I dedicate myself to not only living a Christ-filled life, but I dedicate my life to serving God so that He utters the ever-most powerful words. Whether it's at the gate, or in this very present place, I base the foundation of my life upon hearing God say, "well done, my good and faithful servant." I aspire for my life to provide much joy and purpose to His kingdom. And, I will live in a way that warrants my one-way ticket to eternal life in heaven.

I'll be working my way from that end goal, backward.

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