Intercession (Psalm 23)

You have created me to be a feeler, a nurturer . . . an empath. I love to embrace and share laughter. I love to connect and listen. Sometimes, though, the pain I see in the eyes of others and hear in their voices joins with my own and ricochets around my mind and heart. It takes shelter in that mysterious place inside of me where it feels almost impossible to shake - like there's no exit, only ache.  

But now I see that my mind and heart were never meant to be a permanent home for those things, but a way station on a journey leading to You. So today I will cup those things in my hands in intercession and offer them up to You where they belong.

I'm imagining holding the hands of each of the people You've placed on my heart, and leading them into Your presence to be showered by Your comfort, peace, rest, healing, clarity and guidance . . . to deeply know their worth and feel Your balm on their hurting places. I know the way to Your presence because in Your grace and mercy, You showed it to me.

I'm imagining sitting with them under Your tree surrounded by the aroma of Your flowers next to Your refreshing river. I am holding space, hearing their stories, and bringing their tears to You because You care for them. You are our compassionate High Priest, our Creator, and the Lover of our souls. You know the source of the pain they're carrying. You know it at the root.

And while we are there with You, they may not see You, but I do. You'll wink at me and I'll wink back and smile because You and I will know that You are there. I believe with my whole heart that they will feel Your love and be made whole, because that's what You've done for me. 

Turning 44

From Friday, April 13th through Saturday, April 21st, Dishon and I took Serena and Cairo on a much anticipated family vacation, and it did not disappoint. Here are the highlights:

It's Hard to Leave Rabbit, But I'm So Strong:
We dropped Rabbit off with a new sitter this time, which was hard for me. She usually stays with a couple of different families, and this time we wanted to try leaving her with a sitter we found through Rover.com who would offer her an opportunity to stay with several other dogs in a home near our town with a fenced in yard. Ever since we adopted Rabbit, we've wanted her to have a chance to be more socialized, but in a more reliable setting than a dog park. I took her for a meet and greet a while before our trip, and she did fine. Packing up all her things, though, and taking her over felt like such a betrayal! 😫 Dishon and I stayed with her for a while to make sure she was comfortable, and I was cool, but there were WAY more dogs there than when we went for the meet and greet (Rabbit, the sitter's dog and 8 other dogs mainly because of April vacation week). I didn't cry until I got into the car, which was big for me 😢. For the most part, she had a great time. There were a few incidents with another dog who kept dog profiling her, trying to dominate her and all that just because of her breed. Rabbit was patient for a while, but suffice it to say that Rabbit left the other dog with no doubt about how she rolls when pressed, and how she responds to other dogs being bullied. Enough said.

Really Good Food:
We had so much great food during our trip! We left on Friday, April 13th when Serena and Cairo got home from their early release day, and the trip down to New York was mostly good until we took the exit for the George Washington Bridge. We sat in traffic for HOURS! When we arrived at my parents' apartment on Staten Island, we were greeted by hugs, kisses, curried goat, beans and rice, cabbage, and BBQ chicken. We had a chance to hang out with family, get a good night's sleep, enjoy some legit bagels (yall know NYC bagels are the truth, right?), sausage and coffee for breakfast, and get back on the road.

We stopped in Aberdeen, Maryland for lunch. We intended to grab a quick lunch at Chick-Fil-A, but it was SO packed, so we went next door to The Olive Tree. I won't front. At first, I was thinking it was going to be a bootleg Olive Garden (especially when we got salad and bread sticks after we sat down), but the food was SO good! The bread sticks were SO much better than Olive Garden's (I feel like drooling right now as I'm reminiscing on the buttery goodness!), and the broiled crab sandwich I had? Out of this world good!

I'll say more about the National Museum of African American History and Culture later in the post, but here I must capture the food we had at the museum's Sweet Home Cafe. The food court pays tribute to the many types of food born out of the African American experience, and we enjoyed the fried chicken, mac and cheese, cornbread, BBQ brisket sandwich, baked beans, pecan and sweet potato pie.

We stayed in Arlington, VA from 4/14 - 4/17, and we enjoyed several good meals while there. There was one night, though, when Serena and Cai were good with their leftovers, so Dishon and I took the opportunity to enjoy a spontaneous date night at a restaurant in Shirlington called Carlyle. Yall! So much yummy goodness, from the deviled eggs with pecans and candied bacon appetizer, to the bubbly Sangria, to the Shrimp and Creamy Grit Cakes to the Warm White Chocolate Bread Pudding! I don't even know what to say about all that. It just makes me wanna holla! I was very, very happy with my food.


The night we arrived at Dishon's mom's house in Charlotte, she also had some stewed chicken, rice, broccoli, peas, and sweet potatoes waiting for us, as well as some yellow cake.

I'll also say more about my birthday later in the post, but here I must shout out the restaurant in Charlotte that my friend Romain picked out for my birthday dinner. At Cafe Monte, I enjoyed escargot, beef short ribs bourguignonne, a complimentary slice of chocolate cake, and creme brulee. It was special for many reasons - not only because Romain is from France, but also because several years ago, Dishon and I got to spend ten days in Paris, and it was one of the best times of my life. Cafe Monte reminded me of that time.

My nephew, Richard (Rajendra) and Dee Dee

Driving through Baltimore will always be hard: 
I won't say too much here, except to mention that although I figured that driving through Baltimore would be challenging (for those of you who don't know, my sister, Dee Dee, was murdered in her home in Baltimore almost four years ago), I wasn't prepared for how deeply sad I'd feel, even just passing through on the highway. Dishon was driving, and I Googled her name to see if the police ever identified her murderer. The case is still open, and my heart still breaks when I think of her.

Serena and Cairo are Incredible Young People: 

Before we left for our trip, Dishon, Serena and Cairo gave me early birthday presents and the kids gave me the most beautiful birthday letters. Our conversations over meals during our trip were fun, funny, enlightening, and pleasantly surprising. I'm aware of how observant, sharp, and witty they are, and it's always wonderful to learn more about their thoughts, opinions and ideas. They are so special to me, and I want to give them the world, always. In order to make this trip affordable, we had to make some frugal choices, and it was hard to get to our first hotel and find out that it was actually an updated motel. If I had my way, we'd stay in the fanciest places with all the best amenities, and I felt a little sad when I saw our accommodations. They weren't bad . . . just not exactly what I was expecting. One of the things that touched me most about Serena and Cairo? When we got there, they were so excited about where we were staying. It was their first time having a room all to themselves instead of having to stay in the same room with us, and their excitement and gratitude did my heart good.

Hard to Ride the DC Metro: 
On Sunday, April 15th, we were so excited to get to go to the National Museum of African American History and Culture. After the breakfast buffet at the hotel, we boarded the hotel shuttle that took us to the Pentagon City Metro station. It took a while for us to figure out how to purchase our SmarTrip cards. I'm used to taking public transportation in New York City and Boston where the fare is the same on all the trains. In DC, however, it matters where you're boarding, where you're getting off (you have to scan your pass both entering and exiting the stations), and whether you're riding during peak or off-peak hours. Thankfully, there are Metro staff at each station to help you figure things out.

The African-American Story Never Ceases to Amaze Me:

At a professional development session several years ago, the facilitator shared a video clip of Black children reciting a poem called What Makes You So Strong, Black People? It was an old video, and I haven't been able to find it since, unfortunately, but that's what kept coming to mind as we descended through time in the elevator, seeing the exhibits about the middle passage, reading the accounts of the enslaved Africans who jumped from the horrific ships to the sharks below, the inhumane conditions of those ships, how one woman scraped the dirt from a yam on the ship and ate the dirt to keep part of Africa inside her, ascending and seeing auction block, Harriet Tubman's shawl, Nat Turner's Bible, the words of the Declaration of Independence juxtaposed against all of the injustices my ancestors suffered, Marcus Garvey's hat, KKK hoods, the many, many names of lynching victims, Emmett Till's memorial (including his casket - Emmett was not much younger than Cairo when he was tortured to death), sitting at a lunch counter and choosing what I'd do if I were a Freedom Fighter, someone trying to integrate schools, or a civil rights worker training to sustain harm, reading the words of Malcolm X, James Baldwin and Langston Hughes . . . I, Too, Am America. Black is Beautiful, Strong, Resilient, Deep, Brilliant, Joyful, Contemplative, Creative, Analytical, Undaunted. It was really helpful to be reminded of all that in the midst of the Starbucks incident, the young man in Michigan, shot at for asking for directions, and the massive confederate flags flying over the highway on our way home.

The MLK Memorial Tops Them All:

After spending the day at the NMAAHC, we got tickets for the Hop On/Hop Off Red Tour Buses, and rode around to several DC monuments on a cold, rainy day. We stopped at the Jefferson Monument (I thought the statue of Jefferson at the NMAAHC was much more appropriate - behind him there was a stack of bricks with the names of the enslaved people he "owned," including many of him own children with Sally Hemings).  We also went to the MLK memorial - so powerful, and surrounded by many of his quotes - many of which we don't often hear recounted on the celebration of his birthday each year, interestingly enough. We stopped at the Lincoln Memorial as well before heading back to Union Station for lunch.


Storytelling and Laughter:

Aquiva, Jay, Taurean and Legaci

Unfortunately, we forgot to take pictures while we were together, but the night we arrived in Charlotte, we got to spend time with Dishon's brother Jamie, his fiancee, Aquiva, and our nephew, Taurean (Aquiva's granddaughter and Taurean's niece, Legaci is pictured here, but we didn't get to see her that night). One of my most favorite things is being around Dishon and Jamie. Brothers. Jamie is 13 years older than Dishon. There were a couple of moments where I felt like we went back in time, listening to Jamie talk about his desire to protect Dishon - Dishon had a very cruel second grade teacher who made every day of that school year awful for him, and much to Jamie's chagrin, he didn't find out about this until years later. They had moved from Paterson, NJ, which was a mostly Black community, to East Rutherford, NJ, where there was, unfortunately, a lot of racism, Jamie talked about what that experience was like for him, and what he needed to do to take care of himself. My favorite part of the story? Jay called his friends in Paterson to let them know he needed help after someone tried to mess with him. He said it was like Harlem outside by the time school was over, and he didn't have any more problems after that. Dope! On that Vibranium/Wakanda level! Yes! Dishon and Jay are both such great storytellers, and there's always SO much laughter, and such great memories are both shared and created. . It won't make sense to you, but I'll just drop this right here . . . Let me get that smothered and covered . . . Cook Out style. 😂😂😂 I can't wait to see Jay, Aquiva and Taurean again at our niece's wedding in June! We'll definitely get some pictures then.

Your Birthday Can Remind You How Loved You Are:
On my birthday, I received over 140 Facebook messages (including one from Chris Emdin! What?!?! 😁), in addition to calls from family and Voxes and emails from my colleagues. I got to do everything I wanted to do that day, including eating good food, watching Netflix (finishing A Series of Unfortunate Events, and almost finishing Maya Angelou's And Still I Rise documentary), napping, and spending time with family and friends.

Good Friends Make Life So Extra Sweet!: 

Romain is such an amazing friend. Knowing that I was going down to Charlotte, and had yet to meet his wonderful wife and sons, we made arrangements to get our families together. Being good friends with me means getting to know some things that most people don't know . . . including my requirements for a perfect meal for my birthday. Romain took all of that information (and it's quite a bit!), and not only did he find the best restaurant for me to celebrate my birthday, but we got to spend it with him and his family. He made sure that it was extra special 💕. We even got to go to his house to hang out before going to the restaurant, enjoy an amazing meal, have a rousing Happy Birthday sung to me at the restaurant, enjoy some treats from the Amelie French bakery, and coffee back at his house while our kids played video games (more like Cai played video games with his boys and Serena fought off sleep 😂). Serena loves to sleep.
  
Bringing Dreams to Life:

My mom has been an amazing cook and baker for YEARS! I am so proud to see her business cards! If you're in the New York City area, and you find yourself in need of something sweet, like a carrot, chocolate, red velvet or Italian Cream cake, definitely let me know and I'll put you in touch with her. You will not be disappointed.



Family:

Dishon's mom absolutely has the gift of hospitality, and she made a big dinner to celebrate our visit on our last night there. We got to see Aunt Rita, Dishon's sister Deborah and her boyfriend Vance, our niece, Asha, and her fiance, Daniel, our niece Kelly (Ni'Jah), her daughter, Hayley, our nephews Jared and Micah, Micah's girlfriend, Elizabeth, her son Timmy and their son Zion and friends from Mama Shirley's church. Lots of stories and laughter that night, too!

Dishon and his mom, Shirley

Dishon and his sister, Deborah

Ley, Ni'Jah and Aunt Rita

Asha and her fiance, Daniel

Jared, Dishon and Micah

Cousins

Dishon, Zion and Me

Runs in the Family:
When we sat and talked with Aunt Rita at Mama Shirley's house before everyone else showed up, she talked about how, even now that she's retired, she continues to facilitate diversity trainings.  Hmm . . . Familiar. See my account below of the big things for me in 2018.

It's Hard to Officiate in Virginia:

I won't say too much about this, except that Dishon will be officiating our niece's wedding in June, and in order for him to officiate this wedding, he had to present his license, ordination papers, a letter from his supervisor stating that he's a pastor in good standing, a fee, appear in person to swear an oath (which we were thankfully able to do on our way back home). Serena had to use the bathroom while we were there, and I was a bit scared to let her go into the building for fear that they might also ask to have her as our first born child. Sheesh. Oh, and did I mention that it's only good for one ceremony? 😒

I'm now scared of bridges:

I'm scared of heights. Very. So imagine how I felt approaching the Harry W. Nice Memorial Bridge connecting Virginia and Maryland. #NotSoNice #Terrified #WhySoSteep #NewPhobia
😳
😨
😩
😭

  
Playlists Make Road Trips Extra Good:
Being stuck in traffic drives me crazy, but good music makes it so much better. I made a road trip playlist when I went to Vermont with my friend Laura in February, 2017, and I haven't listened to it since then, so it was fun to listen to it on this trip. I forgot that I also made a playlist to serve as the soundtrack for when my novel is published and becomes a movie. Good stuff! I made the car into my own karaoke bar while I was driving 🎤. I'll resurrect those playlists again on our way back to Virginia in June.

And the celebration continues this month. . . my parents told me that they sent me something special in the mail 💖. There's going to be a cupcake with my name on it when I go into my office on Thursday, and I have a hangout coming up with my girl Laura next weekend. April is a big party all month long. And rightly so! 😉

Big Things in 2018!: 

This year has already been pretty incredible professionally. And I feel like it's only going to keep getting better. I feel like Harry Potter in The Half Blood Prince when he took the Felix Felicis. #Winning

In early March, my sistafriend and colleague, Monica Washington, and I co-facilitated our Required Reading Reconsidered session for the first time at the Kauffman Foundation's Amplify Conference for Kansas City Educators of Color. I won't front - when Chris Emdin dapped me up during his talk, that was EVERYTHING! I have video!

In late March, my little brother from another mother and colleague, Chuks Ekwelum, and I co-facilitated our Interrogating the Curriculum: When Are We Going to Learn about Us? session at The Power of Culturally Responsive Education in the 21st Century conference in New York City.

In April, Monica and I co-authored our Required Reading Reconsidered blog post, and I was featured on the Truth for Teachers podcast discussing the School to Prison Pipeline.

Gabourey Sidibe said my name and read my question on the Smollett Family Book Signing and Interview (check out minutes 15:30 - 17:35). What?!? Got to hear Jake, Jurnee, Jazz, and Jussie answer my question! 😳😁

By May 1st, I'll find out if I won a spot in Spotify's podcast contest. Fingers crossed!

At the end of May, Monica and I will co-facilitate our Required Reading Reconsidered session at the Coalition of Schools Educating Boys of Color (COSEBOC) annual gathering in Boston.

In June, Dishon and I will go away for a pastor's retreat and we'll all travel back to Petersburg, where Dishon will officiate our niece, Esa's wedding. It'll be another family reunion, and I can't wait!

In July, Monica and I will co-facilitate our Required Reading Reconsidered session again at the National Teacher Leadership Conference in Las Vegas.

In the fall, I'll be featured on the Truth for Teachers podcast again, discussing Culturally Responsive Teaching and Learning.  

You know how on Seinfeld, there was the year of George? This is feeling like the year of Afrika, and it feels fine! God, I am so deeply grateful for your love, protection, provision, wisdom, patience, grace, mercy, favor, creativity, and how You share Your joy with me. Year 43 was pretty awesome. Here's to a great 44th.

My Grey's Anatomy Finale: Side Eye at April Kepner

I truly enjoy watching TV and movies. It's one of my favorite things to do. Sometimes it's a challenge for someone like me - someone who is not legalistic about what I will and won't watch, but who is also disinterested in crass, vulgar, gory things. There's enough of that to navigate through in real life, and I don't find it entertaining.

Also, as a Christ follower, it's important for me to be to be thoughtful about and considerate of the things I allow myself to see and hear. It's important to me to be protective of my heart, mind and spirit, and to model for my children how to do the same . . . so sometimes, I'm like, Miss me with that Game of Thrones. No judgment against those who like it. I think Winter is Coming is one of the bombest catch phrases of modern times, even though I have no idea what it means. From what I've heard and read about it, though, it's just not for me, and I'm good with that.

Sometimes, when I hear someone talking about how funny or good something is, I try it out. I like to know what's up, and I experience FOMO just like anyone else. Sometimes I'm pleasantly surprised, and feel like that wasn't so bad . . . But more often than not, I just end up feeling uncomfortable, so I tend to not watch most R/TV-MA rated things. There was a period of time where I was able to watch a show I wouldn't typically watch through a service called VidAngel. The service allowed viewers to select the content we'd prefer not to see/hear, and that content was edited out. The service is in beta, though, and I got tired of waiting for episodes to load and missing seasons. Patience is not always in my wheelhouse.

I was troubled by last week's episode of Grey's Anatomy. It's not like I haven't been exposed to Christians being made fun of and portrayed as silly, out of touch, judgmental, one-dimensional, unintelligent, etc. (i.e., Ned Flanders on the Simpsons, and a recent plot line of Superstore which focused on ridiculing one of the characters because she believed in angels). Some of those  who are followers of Christ in name only make it too easy to make fun of the Christian faith, and those of us who practice our faith in alignment with the teachings of Jesus are often collateral damage. I get it. Take the folks who claim to follow Christ who believe that it's not okay to read/watch Harry Potter because "it encourages witchcraft" but think it's fine to read/watch The Lord of the Rings although Gandalf is also a wizard. I find that type of hypocrisy maddening. I thoroughly enjoy both The Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter (I believe that J.K. Rowling was highly influenced by Tolkien - just look at the Nazgul and compare them to the Dementors). Those folks get on my nerves, too.

But there was something different about last Thursday's episode of Grey's Anatomy. I've been watching the show for years, and even binge watched it again over the Christmas break. April Kepner has never been my favorite character, but it was nice to have someone on the show who identified as Christian, even though she practices her faith differently than I do. There are not a lot of well-developed, observant Christian characters out there in TV land. But wow with this last episode! 😡

So basically April's character endured the loss of her child and the demise of her marriage with her faith tried, but ultimately, seemingly in tact, but when faced with a young man who had taken Matthew 5:30 a bit too literally, a 12-year-old Black boy who was the victim of an unjustified, lethal police shooting, a domestic abuser who died as a result of his own rage, and the death of her former fiance's wife, her faith crumbled. Really?

I guess the argument can be made that her faith was never quite deep to begin with. She mentions Job in her narration of the episode, but doesn't mirror his, ". . . though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him" faith (Job 13:15). I guess someone with her transactional perspective on a relationship with God was bound to crash and burn (I do what I think to be good things, and God should give me what I want versus I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us [Romans 8:18]). But to misrepresent scripture, to misconstrue Jesus' quoting the words of David while on the cross, to say that the trials of Job were merely a bet between God and Satan as if God finds our suffering to be entertaining . . . that is not an accurate representation of the God I know. God who put on flesh and died one of the most awful deaths imaginable because of His deep, all-encompassing love for His children.

Notice I said the God I know . . . not the God I think I know. God is as real to me as any person. More real, actually, and I've been through some stuff. To see a relationship with God regularly treated with such callousness, disdain, and ridicule . . . It bothers me.

I have grown accustomed to not being truly seen, understood, not being valued, being thought of as naturally less intelligent, being made fun of, being minimized, etc. As a Black person in America. As a woman. And also as a Christ-follower. Thankfully, I don't find my worth in what people who don't really know me say about and think of me.

For Christ followers, the Bible is not "just stories." Jesus Christ is my Lord and Savior. I live to worship the eternal Godhead - Father, Son and Spirit. The reality of their Triune relationship gives me life, purpose and irrepressible joy! I just wish that people who want to make statements and/or share opinions about the Christian faith would really take the time to understand The Bible for themselves, or spend time really listening to mature Christians without forming opinions based on what someone else says or thinks . . . and definitely not cracking jokes about the Christian faith based on the foolishness, ignorance, and misrepresentation of some who claim the name evangelical without truly embodying the meaning. Folks don't have to agree with or adopt the same beliefs, but disrespecting what people believe is not okay.

I'm sure the entertainment industry will continue ignorantly hating on the sacred text and beliefs of Christ followers. Whatever. I'm done with giving my time and attention to something as it disrespects something that means everything to me. So long, Grey Sloan Memorial Hospital. I'm all set. That minstrel Christian stereotypical representation is fake news. But when I think about Jesus . . . My soul cries Hallelujah!!! Don't get me started, Yall! 😉

#LittleMeToo?

I've been thinking a lot about #MeToo lately. When I first started seeing it on Facebook, I reflected back on my life to see if I should also update my status. I imagine most women did the same thing. Assault and harassment are very serious issues, and I didn't want to update my status if it didn't really apply to me. At the same time, I wanted to make sure I wasn't suppressing anything or in denial.

My initial thought was that I've never been assaulted. Not in the way I think of assault. Not what you see on Law and Order SVU and on the news. But I didn't feel completely sure. Something was blocking me from moving beyond that initial reaction, though there was a splinter in my mind about it.

I wondered (and I'm still wondering) how #MeToo might be impacting women who have been assaulted in the way I do think about it, and who have not talked about it with many people or anyone at all? There are no trigger warnings on these #MeToo posts. What if someone has buried it deep within and far away, and then these #MeToo posts pop up all over their social media feeds with their well-intended, but dangerous shovels, exhuming all that horror and making their news feeds feel as unsafe as they were when it happened?

It definitely exhumed things for me. Things I'd rather not think about. Things I very rarely talk about, and when I do, it's only with a select few. Things that tempt me to shrink and feel shame. Things that steal my words and strangle me. Things I wish I could completely erase from my mind. There's something that resonates in me when I read #MeToo.

What if a teenage neighbor boy catches you and his little brother being curious, and then the little boy's brother tells you to show him what you were doing? What if you remember feeling dirty and scared - like live kiddie porn? What if, later on you're told, before going to another neighbor's house, not to let what happened with the other neighbor happen with this neighbor? What if you feel ashamed . . . like what happened was your fault, but you hadn't even lost your two front teeth yet? Do you post #MeToo?

What if you act on this same curiosity with a relative half a year older than you, and that relative threatens to tell your big sister what you did if you didn't do everything he said? What if your parents weren't there, and this torture lasted for six weeks of your summer vacation while you were staying out on Long Island with other relatives you barely knew? What if you did everything he told you to do for SIX WEEKS, and then he told you he'd tell your sister anyway? What if you cried, and shook inside, and begged him not to tell, and then he told her something else in front of you . . . something benign, and then looked at you and laughed while your sister looked at you confused about why you were so afraid? Do you say #MeToo if you were only six when it happened, and the relative was not much older than you?

What if you're checked regularly to make sure no one has touched you inappropriately, but so much has happened behind closed doors while they played Bid Whist and Spades, and nothing the eyes could see would tell anything about it at all? 

What if an older male relative asks you and another young relative to massage his thighs, and it feels creepy and weird, but you're a little kid, and you don't know that you can say no?

What if you're in junior high school, and after recess every day on the way in from the yard, the boys run through the crowd of students squeezing the girls' butts and laughing? What if you don't want it to happen, and it makes you so uncomfortable to be touched like that, but no teachers are ever watching, and no one ever does anything to stop it?

What about if you're 15 and then 18, and you're told about about the sexual assaults of loved ones, but you have no one to process it with you? What if you witness someone else's damaging response, know that it's so wrong, but don't know what to do because you don't know what the right response is? What if you have to hold it silently? Just hold it, even though it feels way too heavy? What if you feel horrified, and surprised, and sad, and scared, and confused, and soul-achy, but you have no where to put it? No one to talk to about it? What if you are left wondering, "If this happens to me, will I have to be quiet about it, too?"

What if you confide in a loved one as you're seeking guidance about a friend's sexual secret, and instead of supporting you, that loved one threatens to report your friend to the pastor if she doesn't turn herself in, even though doing so would result in your friend being suspended from church, and expelled from the "Christian" college you attend? What if it felt like an assault, and what if you felt complicit, even though that was not your intention? How do you recover from equipping a loved one to violate a friend? When you feel like a paralyzed bystander who unknowingly provided the weapon your loved one threatened to use to destroy her? In this case, would the person post #ItWasMe? How do you feel ever feel safe around that loved one? How do you ever feel safe to open your mouth again?

What if a male co-worker more than twice your age invites you to come out to lunch while you're working as a magazine intern, and he walks you over to a secluded area near the United Nations, and places his arm around your shoulder without asking you? What if it goes on for a long time, and you're sitting there, wanting him to stop, feeling immobilized and numb, so scared that this may not be where it ends even though you're only yards away from a busy Manhattan street, but no one can really see you from where you are? What if it does end there, and you feel like you dodged a bullet, but you shouldn't really say anything about it because you feel like maybe it was your fault because you asked him for all of those extra office supplies to take back to college with you? Thinking that if you tell, maybe your loved one will think you need to be turned in, too.

What feeds shame?
What nourishes it?
What makes it grow?
Secrets. All of those secrets.
Being afraid to speak them.
What do perpetrators always say?
Shhhhh . . .
Don't tell!

But nothing life giving grows in the dark. 
Forget being quiet!
Speak!
Tell!
Cry!
Scream!
Publish your blog post!
Throw the curtains open and let the light in.
No one who means you well requires you to keep a cancer inside you.
No one who means you well would want to see you crushed beneath that weight. 
It'll be so bright that it will ache at first . . .
But when your eyes adjust to the light you were meant to live in,
You'll be okay.
You'll be able to breathe.
You'll be free.

Sometimes I'm in Texas (Ambassador College/University)

Me in front of Daisy (or Bluebonnet?)

My college doesn't exist anymore. When the Worldwide Church of God's doctrines shifted to mainstream Christian beliefs in the mid 1990s, many of the members left the denomination. The loss of the financial support from the departed members resulted in Ambassador University closing a couple of years after I graduated. My school's campus in Big Sandy, Texas now belongs to the International ALERT (Air Land Emergency Rescue Team) Academy.

I started reminiscing last night after hearing about Tom Petty's passing. A friend posted some of the lyrics to Mary Jane's Last Dance on Facebook last night ("Oh my, my, Oh hell yes . . ."), and wow! It took me back!

I can't take Serena and Cairo to visit my old school like other people can take their children to see their old schools. But sometimes I'm in Texas.

Sometimes I'm walking down to the convention center for my work study job with the Shipping and Receiving department. I'm in the office talking with other students about how I can make a little money selling my plasma (which I did once to buy hair for braids 😧, but I digress . . . ). We're making popcorn in the old school popcorn machine, and singing along with Rosco Martinez as he sings about Neon Moonlight.

Sometimes I'm walking down to the equestrian, thinking about things and looking at the horses.

Sometimes I'm in Longview, running across the highway to the movie theater with my friends, hoping to catch a movie and get back to the shopping trip bus before it leaves. 

Sometimes I'm piled in a car with nine other people going to Whataburger.

Sometimes I'm at Pizza Hut drinking from those red cups or in the Winn Dixie parking lot belly laughing after pranking my friends.

Sometimes I'm at a dunk contest, beaming because the best dunk was just dedicated to me.  

Sometimes I'm singing with the other Black women at the Operation Philia tribute to the Black men on campus.

Sometimes I'm running from the fellas who are trying to take me to the Barn Dance jail.

Sometimes I'm putting on a fancy dress, getting all cute for the Sophomore Banquet or the Senior Ball.

Sometimes I'm listening to Little Texas sing My Love, and I'm singing along, completely surprised by how much I like some country music.

Sometimes I hear the tornado alarms, and I'm in the storm shelter waiting for the all clear.

Sometimes I'm shaking the snack machine in the lounge because it kept my money and didn't release the chocolate chip cookies.

Sometimes I'm jumping up and down on my bed in my dorm named after Azaleas, being silly with my friends, and almost getting hit in the head with the ceiling fan.

Sometimes I'm riding my bike across the airstrip down to Lake Loma, pausing, and taking deep breaths of air fresher than I've ever breathed before.

Sometimes I'm in Texas.

Sometimes I'm in Texas in my mind.

You've Got to be Carefully Taught (Education for Liberation)

I spent the last couple of days with my coach colleagues at BetterLesson, and it was so amazing. I work from home most of the time, and I usually see my colleagues in the Boston area on Thursdays. Some of my colleagues work remotely from New Jersey, Montana, North Carolina and Texas, and starting with Coachapalooza at the beginning of the school year, we meet quarterly for our own professional development and time to connect. The time we spend together feels like magic.

At each of our quarterly gatherings we've been leaning into culturally responsive teaching and learning work - defining the work, identifying and unpacking biases, and exploring specific ways to support our teachers with cultural awareness and appreciation, family and community engagement, and with helping students to become socially and politically conscious and to take action against injustice. The work is hard, and the work is great. It helps me to stay all on fire like William Lloyd Garrison talked about.

I've never seen South Pacific, but I've heard of the song You've Got To Be Carefully Taught. The lyrics stayed on my mind the night before the first day of our retreat last week, so I knew I needed to share it with the team as we thought about what learning experiences we'd want to create for ourselves and students if we were still classroom teachers following the tragic, yet not novel, events in Charlottesville. 

You've got to be taught to hate and fear
You've got to be taught from year to year
It's got to be drummed in your dear little ear
You've got to be carefully taught

You've got to be taught to be afraid
Of people whose eyes are oddly made
And people whose skin is a diff'rent shade
You've got to be carefully taught

You've got to be taught before it's too late
Before you are six or seven or eight
To hate all the people your relatives hate
You've got to be carefully taught

This is so true! Kids don't naturally hate other kids. You put kids together, and their natural inclination is to play - tag, hide and seek, build sandcastles, jump rope, splash in puddles . . . and they don't become hesitant until someone introduces the idea of separation. And even when society/people try to force kids to separate, some kids connect anyway. The Romeos and Juliets. The Other Side by Jacqueline Woodson is a powerful picture book which tells the story of Clover and Annie who become friends in a segregated community.

While kids have to be carefully taught to be fearful of others, the opposite can also be true. Kids can be carefully taught to let go of fear, hatred, prejudice and ignorance. I believe that's where schools and teachers come in. That's a big part of why I do the work I do.

Hatred and ignorance, stereotyping, prejudice, racism and xenophobia are prisons. The prison walls are invisible to some, but they are very real. We are placed in these prisons as children, all of us by the inequities built into American systems and structures from the very beginning, and some of us even more so with the baggage we receive from our families. Some family baggage has us in minimum security prisons, and some of us end up in supermax. As children, we don't have any say in the matter. Genuine relationships with and learning about others across differences (race, culture, gender, socioeconomics, educational experiences, neighborhoods, religions, languages, opportunities for travel, etc.) offer us a kind of parole.

Some of us refuse to be institutionalized, and choose to exit the prison of hatred and ignorance boldly. No recidivism for us. Some exit with curiosity. Some with confusion (when you don't know you've been in darkness, the light can be painful). Some with anger about being put in that prison to begin with. Some choose a halfway house because they're not quite ready to leave all the way. And, unfortunately, some choose to stay in prison, self-imposed life sentences, choosing to live in hate and ignorance, and trying diligently to imprison others. Those who choose to stay imprisoned are loud. Many are in positions of power. Many are all over the internet. They create flyers like this.

My faith tells me that we are all created in the image of God (Imago Dei). My faith tells me that God values diversity by nature of the fact that there's so much of it in this world. My faith tells me that God is love. I believe that love is far stronger than hate. I believe that love wins. Those of us who choose love HAVE to be louder, stronger, bolder, and we must have more stamina. We need to be brave. We need to be willing to be uncomfortable. We need to be willing to hear, do and say hard things. We need to let people know that they are in prison, and we need to offer a loving hand to those who no longer want to be. Jane Elliott offered that hand to the children in her third grade in Iowa after Martin Luther King, Jr. was assassinated. If you haven't already, you can see what she did here: A Class Divided, Part I and A Class Divided, Part 2.

Jane Elliott had her path, and we have ours. Find your traveling companions and let's go!

The Window (Washing Dishes)

I walk Rabbit on Monday, Wednesday and Saturday mornings. I love walking Rabbit - that's true. I don't love waking up at 6 AM to do it. My Fitbit vibrates letting me know it's time to get up, unless my bladder beat my Fitbit to it. I lay there, kick my leg up on my Yogibo body pillow in denial, sigh, pull off my covers and get my old bones up out of bed. "But Afrika," you might say . . . "you're so young, still. You don't have old bones!" Tell my knees that! Achy, achy, achy all the time.

One of my first stops in the morning is to the kitchen sink to wash out Rabbit's food and water bowls before replenishing them both, and that's when perspective kicks in.  I see beautiful things out of my kitchen window while I'm washing her bowls. Do I love making mortgage payments? Nah. Being house poor isn't fun. We're not building equity anywhere near fast enough for my taste . . . but life is about more than money. Washing the dishes in front of this beautiful view reminds me about what's important. One of the best times to listen to God's voice is when you're doing mindless things like washing dishes.

You can't see it so well from the picture, but outside the window is our deck.

But the deck is SO old, and the paint is peeling, and it's not the best deck at all!
So? It's your old, flaky deck. When you lived in New York, and up until October, 2005, you didn't have a deck.
But that old, busted grill is out there, too! 
Yeah, and it was a gift. You didn't have to pay for that grill, and when you're ready, you'll throw that one away, and get a new one. Be thankful for the time you were able to use it. Remember when you lost power for several days and had to grill your food? You appreciated it then, right?
True . . . but Rabbit broke my bench, and it's just sitting out there. 
Well, I know that wasn't your favorite thing that happened, but it was old, and when it's time, you'll get a new bench, and it'll be great.
Hmm . . . those bluejays are pretty cool. We've been seeing so many birds at the bird feeder lately. I like that.
Me too! And did you see those cardinals?
Yes! What a beautiful shade of red! And now that you mention it, those squirrels look like they're having so much fun.
Yep. They're not worried about a thing. Just running and jumping from branch to branch.
And I'm noticing that there are lots of different types of trees outside. What types of trees are there?
Pine, birch and sassafras. 
Sassafras is fun to say.
It sure is! You see those tree trunks?
Yep.
You're strong like that. I made you strong like that. I'm thinking of something I said before that one of the disciples wrote down. You know what I'm talking about?
Matthew 6:25-24
What does it say?
Let me see . . . it says, "Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life? And why do you worry about clothes? See how the flowers of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith? So do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ [Y]our heavenly Father knows that you need [these things]. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself."
You okay now?
I'm good. 
Enjoy your walk with Rabbit, and when you think of it, write down what I said so other people can read it and be encouraged.
Will do. Thank You, Holy Spirit.