Category: Life

  • Tell Your Story Now

    Tell Your Story Now

    I don’t believe anyone should spew hate. We should not hold hate in our hearts, and we should not act on any hate we find within ourselves. But I do believe in the US we have the right to speak hateful things. Yes, limits exist to free speech, but simply saying something a group of people don’t like doesn’t negate a person’s right to speak those things freely. Additionally, what we say and what we believe in our hearts affect the people around us. Hate doesn’t exist in a vacuum. I am deeply disturbed by recent developments regarding our penchant for spewing hate in the US.

    First, the US was built on spewing hate. Hate is built into our foundation. Chattel slavery. Atrocities against Indigenous peoples. Rampant misogyny. I could indefinitely list instances of hate permeating the US, because the incidences of such are endless. This endless march of hatred has shaped the US, and we shouldn’t pretend that it has not. Removing images and teachings of this hate doesn’t erase it. Instead of helping us remember our sordid history and learn from it, removing uncomfortable truths from the public sphere helps us to pretend like our past didn’t happen, enables us to repeat it, and facilitates a return to a society where only wealthy White men enjoy the full rights and safeguards of US citizenship.

    Secondly, no one should die because they have said something someone doesn’t like. And no one should lose their jobs for this reason. And television shows should not be canceled for this reason. What I’m watching happen is that it’s ok for some people to exercise their right to free speech but not for others. Recent assaults on the First Amendment are disturbing, and more importantly, they are dangerous. They are leading us ever closer to an Orwellian future where “All animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than others.”

    So if you have a story to tell that promotes a history that will likely be erased, tell it now. If you have a study that safeguards the lives of people whose lives seem to matter less and less, write and publish it now.

    Now is the only time in which you can do anything, and, friends, the world needs to hear from you now. That novel that’s been burning in your soul? Bring it into the world now. That idea that keeps you up at night? Bring it into the world now. That research you have pored over? Bring it into the world now.

    Take the next step and get some support for your writing endeavors. I’m here to help with Book & Writing Coaching and Life & Accountability Coaching. Click to book some time with me. And if we work together or not, please bring your art into the world now. We need it. I’m rooting for you. And for all of us.

  • Cultural Custodian

    Cultural Custodian

    Hello!

    How are you? I pray you’re well.

    I’m doing fine and dandy, thank you very much.

    Last time I wrote, I mentioned I’ve come to consider myself a cultural custodian for black women, and I promised I’d elaborate on that idea.

    Lately I’ve pondered a lot about my career, and what I love to do, and what I love to read, and who I like to serve, and so many things pointed to black women. I’m a black woman, and I love that. I love my skin and my hair and my culture. I’ve even learned to love things like having to work harder for half as much and consistently being underestimated when I walk into a room. I don’t love that those things are reality; rather, I love that through them I’ve learned strength and compassion.

    I seek out and surround myself with black women. I read books by and about black women, particularly historical black women. I care about what concerns us. And through LELA House, I find my work connects to protecting our hearts, expanding our joy, and highlighting our voices.

    All of this led me to consider myself a cultural custodian of black women. Obviously I looked up many definitions and connotations of cultural, custodian, and cultural custodian. Who would I be if I didn’t look up definitions? 🙂

    Many definitions included the ideas of preserving, maintaining, safeguarding, and promoting the traditions, practices, values, and narratives of a culture. I find all of those ideas valuable and accurate as they relate to my work at LELA House. Through book coaching, writing coaching, and self-care services, I do, indeed, strive to preserve, maintain, safeguard, and promote the traditions, practices, values, and narratives of black women. One definition of cultural custodian, from “The Custodian: Introduction: The Custodian and the Significance of Art Preservation” in the November 13, 2023 issue of Selections Magazine, added some nuance that particularly struck a chord with me.

    “In the world of art, the custodian plays a pivotal role in the protection, curation, and promotion of artworks and collections. Whether an individual or an institution, custodians shoulder the responsibility of ensuring that these artistic expressions remain intact for future generations. Their role extends beyond mere preservation; it encompasses a commitment to making art accessible, fostering an understanding of its historical and cultural context, and supporting the broader appreciation of artistic endeavors.”

    Resonating the most with me is the idea of black women ourselves, not solely the creative works we produce, as art. My take on the quotation becomes the following.

    In the world of black women as masterpieces, the custodian plays a pivotal role in the protection, curation, and promotion of individual black women and us as a collective. Whether an individual or an institution, custodians shoulder the responsibility of ensuring that black women’s narratives remain intact for future generations. Their role extends beyond mere preservation; it encompasses a commitment to making black women’s stories accessible, fostering an understanding of their historical and cultural context, and supporting the broader appreciation of black women, our experiences, and our creative expression.

    And yes, that is work I want to do.

    Why do I care so much about our stories from the long US 19th Century and supporting those who tell them? Because mere preservation isn’t enough; our stories must be accessible to foster an understanding of our historical and cultural context. Why do I care about our stories from other historical eras and supporting those who share them? Because our narratives must remain intact for future generations. Why do I care about our joy and well-being and supporting black women as we incorporate these things into our lives? Because we must support the broader appreciation of black women, our experiences, and our creative expression. Why do I consider myself a cultural custodian for black women? Because we are masterpieces who must be protected and promoted as individuals and as a collective, and God created me to serve in that role.

    God has been leading me to work as a cultural custodian for black women for my entire life. From my high school acts of civil disobedience to pledging my sorority to adventuring with my mother, to being outraged at discrimination in a library, I’ve spent 30+ years serving as a cultural custodian for black women without knowing that was what I was doing.

    But I know now. Let’s see where God will take me.

    Until next time!

  • THRIVE Community

    THRIVE Community

    I’m building THRIVE Community to support black women in higher education, particularly those who live in the St. Louis metropolitan area.

    With all of the changes under the new Trump administration, I’m concerned about – well, a lot of things, to be honest. The takeovers, the proposed eradication of the Department of Education, the erasures of history, the attack on the arts, the redaction of DEI, and on and on. Honestly, it’s exhausting. And disheartening.

    So I’m ecstatic that I serve a God who is Sovereign and in control and able to handle whatever comes our way!

    As I’ve been thinking and praying about all the things, my heart keeps circling back to black women in higher education. Higher education is a difficult space to exist in as a woman. And even more difficult as a black woman. Add in all of the things happening in the US right now, and we get a concoction primed to take out all the black women fighting the good fight in higher education.

    I may not be able to do everything, but I am able to do something, and the something I can do is provide a place where black women in higher education can create, encourage, hold, and demand space for our own creativity, joy, and rest.

    So I’m creating THRIVE Community. It’s a work in progress, and we need your help.

    Please check out the link to learn more about THRIVE Community, and if you would like to join our new community, just fill out the Google form you’ll find near the bottom of the THRIVE Community page.

    If you like what you find, please share THRIVE Community with others.

    Here’s to THRIVE-ing!

  • Why do I have so many chins?

    Why do I have so many chins?

    I am part of a writing group that meets on Zoom. We all live in different states, so our regular Zoom meetings are a great way to keep in touch, encourage each other, and get some writing done.

    The other day, after we had set the timer for our writing, I found myself not writing. I didn’t have anything to say about anything. I looked at my friends writing and being productive, and I looked at myself on screen and noticed that I have a bunch of chins. So I wrote about it. I ended up writing a poem.

    Why Do I Have So Many Chins

    Why do I have so many chins, so many chins, so many chins? Why do I have so many chins? It’s a sign of a life well-lived.

    I’ve birthed babies and businesses and read some good books.

    In my younger days I got too many looks

    I’ve lounged and I’ve lazed

    and frittered and wasted

    I can’t even count all the pies I have tasted

    I’ve loved and I’ve climbed

    I’ve been rich; I’ve been broke

    I never, not once, have taken a smoke

    I’ve sat by the bedsides of my sick children and dying mom

    I’ve taught and I’ve learned and got stood up at prom

    I’ve sung and I’ve danced

    I’ve even trapezed

    I once got stopped by Austrian police.

    I’ve cried and comforted

    Been torn down and built up

    And in everything, God fills up my cup

    Why do I have so many chins, so many chins, so many chins? Why do I have so many chins? It’s a sign of a life well-lived.