self

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.

• 0 Comments

• Share:

growth

Shedding the Layers

1/10/2018

The journey to self-discovery, identity, and worth is a tiresome one. It takes discipline, dedication, and work - lots of work. For a long time I wondered where that work began. What does that work look like? How long does that work take? How will I know when to begin that work?

I knew I had to learn myself, so that’s where I began. I highlighted my surface level issues—you know, heartbreak, insecurity, rejection—and figured that was enough for me to jump in. "Time to heal myself and grow," I’d say as if it was about to be a fantastic voyage.

I didn’t know the half.

I didn’t realize that surface level revelation would only produce surface level results. More fake smiles. More fake growth. I wasn't honest enough with myself to begin the work, yet. I was looking skin deep trying to change my spirit. I was trying to redefine myself by only looking at the definitions people assigned to me; by only looking at definitions that would be accepted, and were created, by society. I went no deeper than that.

I began the work blindly. Reading articles, following inspirational tweets, writing affirmations on my mirror. Those were good starts, but they weren't the work. I was putting a band-aid on a wound that needed stitches.

I recognized that much of my problem was my own willingness to get to the root and pull out what needed to be fixed. I only accounted for what I could actually see or feel, completely ignoring the culmination of things that led to that breaking point, these feelings, and these behaviors. These feelings came from more than just this one situation, they were deeply rooted. But when I began I was merely glancing at the surface, not what was beneath. I blamed the soil, not the seeds.

I realized that the work begins at the intersection of pain, insecurity, doubt, fear (the list goes on) and my willingness to identify its roots. Not by starting with the obvious things sitting on the surface, but digging into the things that lie deep beneath it. I realized that the work begins with shedding layers.

Truly shedding layers means getting to the root cause of your negative emotions and self-loathing. It is, very literally, snatching back every doubt, every worry, every insecurity, every hurt, until you reach the cause of it all. It’s peeling back your shell and revealing its foundation—what's cracked and unleveled underneath?

Shedding your layers is the beginning of the work. Pulling back every piece of pain, past, heartache, and flaw, and getting to your core. Unraveling yourself until there's nothing left but you and your bare spirit, staring at each other in a figurative mirror. You facing yourself without the mask of ego, excuses, or unapologetic-sass.

It begins with removing your titles—both self-inflicted and societally defined. It's emptying yourself of burdensome expectations. It’s revealing who you are underneath the standards of society, the pain of your past, and the worries and doubt of your future. It's just you and this core—without the hardened shell you use as protection.

Shedding your layers is not easy work, but it’s necessary work. That’s where you start—with shedding your layers. You start with bravery and honesty and intention. You start with reliving the moments you didn’t think you could survive, and removing the power you gave them to dictate who you’d become. You start with recognizing the root of your behaviors, thoughts or feelings, and discovering ways to overcome them. You start with identifying the ways you may have failed yourself and the way life may have failed you, and letting it go.

Peel back the layers beyond just brokenness; peel them back until you unveil fullness. Until you discover the woman made in God’s image. Shed the layers past insecurities, past heartbreak, past familial issues, past dead friendships. Shed them until you get to a feeling of wholeness. Of peace. Of completion.

Each layer you shed should make you feel lighter. Do this work until you feel lighter; do it until you feel like you’ve finally let go of everything you harbored. All resentment and anger and pain. All heartbreak and hatred. Peel back everything until you have fully undressed your spirit, leaving it bare and open for God to step in and re-dress you with love and positivity; take off societal demands and self-criticism, put on the promises of God. Shed your layers until you have literally addressed everything that ever put you in bondage, and break those chains with confrontation and prayer.

Peel back your layers and prune the leaves that haven't produced good fruit. That is where you must start. Get to that woman – get to your core – and build her up from there. But do not start doing so, until you have uncovered everything; until you have repaired the foundation and uprooted the negative seeds.
---
I (finally) began the work before I even realized that’s what I was doing. I sat in my bathroom pulling off layers that I didn't even realize existed. Praying to God, rebuking foul thoughts, and crying until I felt free. Pursuing forgiveness and letting things go. They came off like a domino effect, one recollection leading to another; one act of repentance followed by another. All of this I offered unto God as a sacrifice—finally giving up the woman I was, for the woman He created me to become.

I had to shed so I could bloom.
Now, it's your turn.

• 0 Comments

• Share:

Christ

What Affirmations Are You Using?

9/15/2017

At the core of self-love there are positive affirmations. In fact, positive affirmations are what some people use to jumpstart their journey toward self-love. The consistent pattern of speaking good things over your life and yourself, forces you to believe what you're actually saying - even if at first, you don't believe it. But, have you ever considered, instead of speaking random positive messages over yourself, how influential it could be to speak God-ffirmations over yourself? Okay, I made that word up, but you get my point.

It's one thing to believe truths that you speak, and something even more powerful to speak truths from God's word. This is a concept introduced to me by a high school friend, Shaciera. She posted on Instagram one of her God-ffirmations and I was immediately intrigued.

When I started journeying into self-love, and really diving into self-care, God was the foundation of it all. I learned to love myself through the love God gave me each and every day. So it's only right, that we use God's word to empower and uplift us into divine belief. And because I never just leave you hanging, here are some verses Shaciera uses to affirm her day, her life, and God's love for her.

This is what the verses are:

• "But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength. They shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; and they shall walk and not faint." Isaiah 40:31

• "And my God will supply all your needs according to His glory in Christ Jesus" Philippians 4:19

• "He was fully convinced that God is able to do whatever He promises" Romans 4:21

• "Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done in Earth, as it is in Heaven" Matthew 6:10

• "Have I not commanded you? Be strong and of good courage; do not be afraid, nor be dismayed for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go" Joshua 1:9

• "Don't just pretend to love others. Really love them. Hate what is wrong. Hold tightly to what is good." Romans 12:9

• "A kindhearted woman gains honor, but ruthless men gain only wealth" Proverbs 11:16

• "The temptations in your life are no different from what others experience. And God is faithful. He will not allow the temptation to be more than you can stand. When you are tempted, He will show you a way out so that you can endure" 1 Corinthians 10:13

• "But without faith, it is impossible to please Him. For he that cometh to God must believe that He is and He is a rewarder of them that diligently seek him." Hebrews 11:6

And, this is how to turn them into affirmations:

• But I will wait upon the Lord which shall renew my strength. I will mount up with wings like eagles; I shall run and not be weary; and I shall walk and not faint." Isaiah 40:31

• "And my God will supply all my needs according to His glory in Christ Jesus" Philippians 4:19

• "I am fully convinced that God is able to do whatever He promises" Romans 4:21

• "Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done in Earth, as it is in Heaven" Matthew 6:10

• "Has He not commanded me? Be strong and of good courage; do not be afraid, nor be dismayed for the Lord my God is with me wherever I go" Joshua 1:9

• "I don't just pretend to love others. I really love them. I hate what is wrong. I hold tightly to what is good." Romans 12:9

• "I am a kindhearted woman who gains honor, but ruthless men gain only wealth" Proverbs 11:16

• "The temptations in my life are no different from what others experience. And God is faithful. He will not allow the temptation to be more than I can stand. When I am tempted, He will show me a way out so that I can endure" 1 Corinthians 10:13

• "But without faith, it is impossible to please Him. For I cometh to God, so I know that He exists and He is a rewarder of me who diligently seeks him." Hebrews 11:6 

The art of changing God's word to affirmations is easy - just switch the s/he to an I. Next time you read through the Bible, see how many great verses you can personalize by switching the subjects, and use them to affirm yourself everyday. God's word is not only true for Jeremiah, Mary, Ruth or the many others, it's true for you too!

-----------
Shaciera is the creator of ShacieraSpeaks.com, a faith-based lifestyle blog. There, she shares her testimony with hopes that readers will experience true freedom found through Jesus Christ.

• 0 Comments

• Share:

growth

A Quest for Love

12/05/2016

I sought after love so long, I hadn’t realized it already existed within. 

It was the same love I was looking for in men who barely knew what love was. I was coaching myself through relationships that had no business manifesting. Holding onto text messages and photos as the only proof of affection I'd receive. At my young age, that was enough. But the older I got, the more I realized the love I was settling for wasn't the love I deserved. 

I matured enough to recognize that I would never receive true love, without first knowing what it is, what it means and what it feels like. Without first understanding how to give it, and most importantly how to receive it, I may never have it. Admittedly, I wouldn't have known what love was if it tapped me on the shoulder. I knew only what I'd seen on TV. Only what I'd experienced in my early relationships. Only what I'd felt before, and how much better (or worse) the next one felt. 

I cried at the end of all of them. Not because I lost a love I thought was everlasting, but because I realized I wasn't any bit closer than where I began. I was sad because more time was wasted, and I still felt the same. Like love wasn't there and I would never find it. 

On the other side of those tears, that confusion, and what felt like failure, light found me. There was a God loving me the way I'd longed to be loved by a man. He loved me in spite of my flaws and imperfections. Loved me behind closed doors and openly. Loved me without me having to beg for it—as it may have seemed I'd done in the past. 

If God was my first love (something I always should have recognized Him as), then I was determined to be my second. Not for any other reason than because I wanted to learn to love like Him. I didn't have the advice of anyone telling me I must first love myself. I didn't even have anyone telling me that I didn't love myself. I simply wanted to learn to love. I wanted to learn to spot love. I wanted to learn to be love—to God, to myself, and to whomever else occupied my space. 

God's love taught me a lot about love—what it should look like from others, but most importantly what it should look like from myself. He taught me that it won't be perfect. It won't be painless. But it'll be protecting. It'll be life-changing. It'll be inspiring. He taught me that I didn't need to chase it. That true love rests within, and the energy of it would attract more love; that love would be contagious. That giving love was far more enriching that receiving love. (But if you could give great love and receive great love then you just hit a goldmine.)  He taught me that loving me isn't a chore, but a privilege. And that I need not do a thing more than love myself, to receive a love as pure as His from others. 

So I sought it out again, not to look for love, but to do love. To be love. To love myself.

I began that journey. I tore myself down and built myself back up. I dug up the parts of me I hid from others. I became one with who I was and learned to love the hell out of her—literally. I embraced her. I was patient with her. I was kind with her. I exposed her happy. I made her happy. I nurtured all the parts of her; as many as there are. I protected her. I forgave her. I was unapologetic in the way I loved her and the pedestal I placed her on. I uncovered her worth. Her value. I ripped every single bandage off her surface and loved the scars that were there. Loved her in spite of the damage that was beneath. I loved her inside and out, just like God had. I knew that if I could do this with myself—love every inch of me, knowing the mistakes I've made, my darkest secrets, and the pain that rested within—I could do it with anyone, and anyone, with me. In loving myself, I recognized that I am lovable and I no longer needed a man to prove that to me. God was enough, and I was even more. 

I learned many ways to love myself through God's love for me, and have thus, been able to demand that same love from the relationships I enter. I realized that you need not seek love, but that love begins within you, and manifests into the greatness it's meant to become, as it permeates through your being. As your love echoes into the world, you begin to attract it from those around you. You don't force love. Love finds you. 

But you must first find yourself. 

• 0 Comments

• Share:

#TEATIME

How I Heal

11/10/2016

1. Desire to be healed

2. Pray

3. Believe/Faith

That's what I wrote down as I studied biblical principles of healing. After my most recent breakup, I was ready to get the process started. Ready to get over the rough patches and the resurfacing of the hidden parts of myself, introduced in these last 2.5 years.

Though, embracing the great times, I was ready to move on. To embrace the new, great times, with a new great being, all while acknowledging that I must heal first. Heal from the pain, the insecurities, the arguments, and from it being the most amazing love of my life, despite the rumble and tumble we’ve put ourselves through. A love that stretched us and strengthened us in ways I’m sure neither of us could’ve imagined. And, while longing for this love of transition and growth to last, it just wasn’t—to no fault of mine.

I wanted to heal because I didn't want to be weighed down by the hardship of a broken heart. I wanted to heal because love is too precious to let bitterness ruin it. Love so pure. So unconditional. I experienced that and I want it again. So I know, with such a request, I must enter with a clean slate. Completely cleansed, restored, and renewed.

I started my healing process by deleting phone numbers and social media handles. I thought it would be easier to rid myself of him completely, like I had done in all my other relationships. I wanted to erase the trace of him from my life; but it was hard to do that with the smell of his cologne lingering in my apartment, and the prints of his fingertips still etched into my skin. I knew this process would be hard—he was my best friend, knew all of me, and loved me in spite of it—but I didn’t think it’d be impossible. How many times did I have to block him in order for me (or him) to stay away?

Weeks passed and we still occupied restaurants together, churches together, and miscellaneous events geared toward our blackness together (Greek events and rallies to name a few).  I kept calling him for my biggest celebrations and my biggest mistakes—and he, me. The healing that I needed wasn’t happening because I was still (emotionally) involved. He was still there. How can I heal with his presence still wrapped up in mine?

God said: “heal now,” and I struggled to figure out how. I made up in my mind that no matter what my situation was, how often we continued to talk, or how many outings we had, I was determined to work through it—to heal—for me.

I realized that sometimes healing happens in the middle of the situation you need healing from. It happens in the middle of the sidewalk while the rain is pouring down. It happens during the car ride and the many difficult conversations. I didn't want to welcome healing during those moments. I wanted to heal my way. In my space. On my own. I wanted to heal away from him. But somehow, we kept reconnecting. We kept being friends. And, God...God wanted me to heal...now.

My biggest heartache, caused by my most meaningful love, needed to be healed in the very presence of that love. I recognized that part of the healing I was longing for—trying to chase down—was in the friendship we forged.

How do I heal? Through revelation. Through strength. Through consistency. I heal in a direction of growth and prosperity. I heal with my mind, eyes and heart on my healer. I heal constantly. Because as life happens, so should healing. In and out of situations; over and over again.

I heal through the utter desire for healing, through the prayer I need to get it, and the faith I need to believe it's already done—whether the situation is over, or I’m right in the middle of it.

• 0 Comments

• Share:

#TEATIME

My Name, My Identity

10/20/2016

Zoey versus Zoe: a battle I’ve endured for a long 27 years. One that I sometimes chose to fight and other times chose to ignore. My name. My name was under constant (unintentional) scrutiny. During my earlier years it was something my parents stood up for, declaring wild intent for the selection of my name and its meaning. Dating back to my father’s experience with racism in the south, and his unwavering desire to educate his children about these very present racial injustices—despite us having been too young to understand. “Her name is Zoe,” they’d say with black strength in their voices. 

“Queen of praise” to some, “worthy of praise” to others, and “healer” to the Liberian family that danced around me in circles, Zoe ignited a sense of cultural pride that I only recently begun to explore.

“Her name is Zoe,” my prophyte would exclaim to those who called me “Zoey”. 

“They don’t call Moe, Moey,” I would always say to myself. Often times I’d be alone during these encounters. They’d happen in school, on job interviews, at new jobs. They’d happen in meetings, on phone calls, and in any other situation where someone had to read my name for themselves. It even happened when I introduced myself as “Zoe” and it was incorrectly reiterated. It would happen, most frequently, when no one else was around to defend my name like I was so used to. But see fighting for the sake of my name hadn’t been a battle worth fighting, to me. I let it go, and more times than not, answered. I ignored the historical implications of my African name and responded to the ignorance of those around me. Those who insisted on adding an extra syllable to an already simple name. 

Never did I think, though, that the mispronunciation of my name would somehow relate to the misunderstanding of my being; or that my cowardice to correct would be symbolic to the insecurities of my identity.

I noticed that in order to correct people I had to be confident in my right to correct them. I had to be confident in the meaning behind it. I had to be confident in the person baring it. After all, it is my name! And if they say it wrong, I have the right to tell them. I had to become sure of myself that the label I held on to —the one my parents so intentionally called me—was the only label I should be called, (along with Zoe Zoe, the affectionate rendition a soror came up with). 

See I learned many things about myself during the years of answering to the wrong name. As un-thought provoking as it may seem, my name was a piece of my being. Who I am. Why I was created. And what space I would occupy on this Earth. And in recognizing this, I learned that being called anything, for the sake of being called, is certainly not the way. My name, and being, has far too much purpose to succumb to whatever the masses choose to label me.

So with these thoughts sticking to my throat like a Popeye’s biscuit, I wish to express to you the following three things, as you continue on your own journey of self-discovery and self-appreciation.

1. Do not conform. Do not allow their labels to become your normal. Do not allow the mispronunciation of your name, or misunderstanding of your purpose, dictate what you call yourself. Do not abandon your being to make them comfortable. Do not throw away the person you’ve become, the one created by the Father and your parents, to fit what they have in mind for you. Because whether they know your name or not, you are powerful beyond measure, and you must hold true to your very raw, very authentic identity.

2. Be confident in your being. Be confident enough to correct them when they’re wrong. To remind them of who you are, so they can never forget it. To correct them as many times as it takes for it to stick. To know, that in doing so, you are reaffirming the brilliance and intentionality of your creation. 

3. Be powerful in your identification of self. Whatever your name may be, and whatever it may mean say it firmly and boldly. Recognize the power in your correction and the declaration you're making to yourself to share exactly who you are. Believing who you say you are, and not at all what they call you. Commit to being that woman every day of your life, and dedicate yourself to ensuring that those around you learn to embrace her, instead of a falsehood with the wrong name.

While I am loads more than my name, my name (obviously) plays a large role in my identity. And to allow people to strip that from me, as unintentional as it may be, is allowing them to strip away my being. I’ve learned to correct people when they’re wrong about me (and my name), not because I’m offended, but because I need them to recognize the power behind both my identity and my existence. Now that’s a battle worth fighting.

• 0 Comments

• Share:

growth

There's Always A But

8/22/2016

Body image. Procrastination. Impatience.

We all jotted down what it was we disliked most about ourselves. What issues we struggled with the hardest. What self-loathing thoughts stood in our way the most.

Not being where I want to be. I wrote down as number 3 of 5. The activity was conducted over top the soft melody of Anthony Evans—the perfect soundtrack for this moment of reflection. Being lost in myself, I wrote as I recalled the many times I felt like I didn't know myself; and thought about how not knowing myself caused me to miss out on knowing others.

Part one of the activity ended ten minutes later. Had it continued there would've been a lot of damp eyes. We talked briefly about the effect of part one; how it brought up old feelings within us; how it forced us to deal with the very things we'd been pushing into the dark; how conjuring up those negative things we try to convince ourselves we don't care about, is both hurtful and therapeutic.

The facilitator instructed us to write a 'but' to the negatives we exposed on that sheet of Hilton Inn notebook paper. She reminded us that while bringing to light the darkness that lingers within, it's also important to shine a light directly on those dark places. To not just expose those things, but to reflect on the good parts of them too. That's where the but came in. That's where this post came in. 

Because there's always a but. There's always a positive that comes with every negative. There's always another reason, another answer and another way out. There's always a light to be shone into the dark nights. There's always another source of sunshine, somewhere. There's always a moment where you recognize that the bad is not what should be highlighted but that, instead, the good that comes in the midst of it is.

You may not be where you want to be, but you're not where you were.
You may be impatient, but you're effective, productive and efficient.
You may not be the weight you wish to be, but you're healthy.
You may not yet know exactly who you are, but you know what you're called to do.

but you know what you're good at. 
but you know to whom you belong. 
but you know that joy comes in the morning. 
but. but. but.

In all that we are and all that we endure, there's always a but that offers a ray of sunshine. Our task, while assessing where we can improve in our lives, is to also recognize the great things we offer. To appreciate the good that often couples with the bad; the good that's often outweighed by the bad. And, to acknowledge the but that boldly interrupts our self-defeating thoughts and brings us closer to self-love and hope.

There's always a but. Take time to find yours. 

• 0 Comments

• Share:

#TEATIME

My Black, My Truth

6/22/2016

I struggled for a long time with deciding to change my target audience. Perhaps I could relate my posts and experiences to all women and not just black women. Every woman needs empowerment – right? These thoughts rang over and over in my head as I plotted out a new path for DEAR QUEENS.

Maybe I should change my focus. Write about things that everyone can relate to. I suggested that I utilize a more general perspective, instead of focusing on issues that are ever-present in black womanhood and black culture. Issues like black girls being magic, ignoring society's perceptions of our physical beauty, and using 'Lemonade' as an outlet to tell our own stories.

These thoughts even trickled into my real-life interactions – being able to connect better with my African American counterparts, than any others. Not because of any prejudice, but because of our similarities. Because of our stories. Because of the unignorable beauty of our culture and the connection we forge because of it. For much of my adult-life, I felt this to be a hindrance to the woman I'm trying to become, both in my purpose and in my professional life. Maybe I should try to relate more to others, even if it doesn't come naturally. But the more I dive into me, the more I realize this is who I am and I have to love it.

As important as it may be to empower every woman, I can not speak to every woman's experience, because, I, myself, am a black woman, with a black woman perspective – and this black woman journey is all I know.

To water down my truth in an attempt to appeal to a wider range of women would be doing a disservice to those who're constantly being unserved: black women. To change my black voice to one that fits the general population will mean losing my voice. The voice that encouraged me to create this outlet of inspiration. The voice that's been keeping this thing afloat. The voice that has provided the lessons and insight I lovingly share here. The voice that forms the words of this process and uses it to connect with others like me. The only voice I have. 

See, I love my blackness. I love my black experience, my black journey – and every ounce of love and hate it may come with. I love how my melanin generates both great struggles and great triumphs. I love how my stories are not from a place of just womanhood, but of black womanhood and how unignorable that is. I love how my A.M.E Zion church is rooted in tradition. I love how my history – though heart-shattering – is synonymous with strength and rooted in perseverance and unity.  

I love how my red-toned skin tans. How my brown body looks in coral bathing suits and floral print sundresses. I love the dark brown freckles that grace my body in unforeseen places; and the darker brown beauty mark on my thigh. I love my lips, my nose, and my almond eyes. I love how my curves fill out jumpsuits, and how this lent its way to insight about street harassment. 

I love how black music, black art and black culture is used as a blueprint for what's "hot". I love how in the midst of its appropriation, black style cannot be mimicked. I love the creativity of my black counterparts and how we often turn our black trials into bold black testimonies. I love how my blackness cannot be avoided nor ignored – forcing me to accept and appreciate every inch of this blackness in ways that only other black bodies can understand. Can receive. Can wallow in. 

See, I love my blackness. I love my black life, my black struggles, and the journey of this thing called black womanhood. My blackness cannot be ignored, nor should my black voice be silenced. So, while appealing to a wider audience may be great, I love my blackness too much to water down my experience. I love it too much to water down yours too. We need these lessons in the brown skin context of which they come, and I will continue to provide them through these brown fingertips. 

There will be things we all can relate to, but there are some things that can only be shared through my black woman perspective. And I learned to be completely okay with that. 

• 0 Comments

• Share: