I’ve recently been pondering whether or not my blog should remain “anonymous” although, technically, given the available social media links it isn’t really. I see my lovely fellow bloggers always with the cute pictures and icons, I figure well what else is going to be the face of my blog but me?
Why did I choose anonymous?
Initially, I just wasn’t sure about how I felt being my uncensored self to the public. I didn’t want to plaster my face next to some of the controversial topics that were first discussed on the blog. Too many life moves were pending and as I’ve been warned, blackademic circles are small and potentially vindictive (but that’s another story for another time). I’d also I convinced myself it would be cool to be the mysterious face behind the semi vulgar posts I’d been planning to unleash on the people.
So who is she?
I’m 23. Aspiring PhD. Still can’t pinpoint what I wanna do with my life even though I probably shouldn’t admit that out loud. And this is my face:
I’m originally from Brooklyn. Born and bred. I’m also Jamaican. Born here. But Jamaican as far as you’re concerned. Both of my parents are products of the mean streets and country… (can we call them roads?) that is the island of Jamaica. And I mean, they’re type of Jamaican that has stories about times they rolled down the side of a mountain. Like, grew up in the same town as Yellow man Jamaican. As a result, I’m the kind of Jamaican that has a breakfast looking like this:
I believe I stated somewhere in another post that I started undergrad at 16. I really only make this point because it’s shaped my adolescent years in ways that no other experience could. Instead of a sweet 16, I had going-away shindigs cuz nobody could afford to do both. My bf makes it a point to call me “baby genius”.. please, don’t do this. If I was so much of a genius I would have passed Calc that first semester.
I’m doing the adult braces thing. I’ve only chewed gum once in the last 2 years. Orthodontist tells me she wants it off in the Fall. I’m like… uh yea honey, let’s get this rolling. You may wonder why I put this in an about me post, but until you’ve had braces you don’t realize how much it kinda becomes a part of your identity. It was hard at first, waking up one day and sounding like Mighty B out of the blue. Then my teeth got twisted damn near out of my mouth and I was so self-conscious I didn’t know what to do with myself. But I actually think I’ll miss these things. When they snap these hoes off, I’ll cue “I’ll be missing you….”
How does she actually feel about God?
This is for those who read my previous post about the church. And if you haven’t, what are you waiting for? Get up to speed here. I’m Christian. I’m going through a process of trying to reconcile what my heart tells me Jesus wants, what the Bible says he wants, and what the stereotypical man in the pulpit wants. I know Jesus didn’t get snatched up out of his comfy throne in heaven so that a man in the pulpit who binge drinks to make it into the pulpit could tell me that I need to be submissive to a man that may swing at me every now and again. But please don’t mistake my critiques of the church/black church as a rejection of religion/God/Jesus. There’s this thing that one cannot be black, woke, and Christian. But in the past year when no science or mindfulness techniques worked, I found value in staying alive connected only to my belief in Jesus. That’s sacred to me. So yes, this influences my life. Allow me.
The book Quiet by Susan McCain solidified my life. I’m super introverted. But I am capable of being the opposite. While pretending to be an extrovert, my face burns and I rush through the moment. I hate being put on the spot and once I figure out that I’m the center of attention, my insides go into self-preservation mode and sets itself on fire. My ability to multitask kicks in and I coach myself through the experience. Blogging thus far has worked out well to compliment introvert life. Interestingly to some, I’m just as candid an open in face to face conversation as I am on my blog. Perhaps it’s fitting to add here that I am a Sagittarius. Deduce from that what you will.
I procrastinate. My time management skills are poo. I love to start projects that don’t finish themselves. I have it all together and I’m a mess. I’m a perfectionist. For this reason, I’m going to feel like nothing I present is A1 per my standards, but I’m learning to just DO. Otherwise, this blog would still be a figment of my imagination.
All hail melanin!
Black women inspire me. The perseverance, the resilience, the innate ability to get the ball rolling when everyone else around is just talking about the ball. The melanin. The natural hair, the relaxed hair, 30 inch weaves and pixie cuts. The badassery, the nurturing, the relationships we form with one another and how we fortify each other. It’s everything. I love that somehow, we still manage to stand in a world that doesn’t give us a damn thing to stand with. I hate that we must be these things, but because we do I admire us so much more than anything or anyone else because it takes so. Freaking. Much.
And I love our young black girls. Because no one can get them like we should get them, and therefore I’ve devoted my life’s work to young black women. Because at multiple points in my journey an OG black woman reached back for me and gave me the game so I could be an OG black woman one day too.