Solynya

A throw back story.

I had a close friend and neighbor as a kid. I’ll call him J for this blog. J and I spent so much time together as kids throughout the years. As teenagers I even made him come over to see me off on a date and be there when I got back because my parents were away. (They trusted me an awful lot! Leaving me in town without them sometimes for a full week at a time. And I was truly always good.)

We ate our meals together, I believe I saw ever Looney Tunes and Power Ranger episode because of him. And of course Dragon Ball Z. He was obsessed! We would spread all of the Power Ranger toys and barbies across the kitchen floor and play for hours, become hypnotized by video games or spend the entire summer day outside. And of course, we fought. Not just verbally but physically. I am a few years older so I would win most of the time. Sometimes I was a bit bossy, because I of course, was the Boss.

One day we were playing in my front yard. Sitting in the rich green grass talking and building things. An adult called for us and we jumped up to run in the house.

We each wanted to be first. He fell down and I screamed about how I was gonna beat him. He reached up and grabbed my leg stopping my run and slamming my little body forcefully to the ground face first. That beautiful green grass….I had a mouth full of it. I was in shock. When I gathered myself and spit all the grass out, I tackled him full force throwing him to the ground. I said “You made me eat grass!” He was pleaseed and laughed. I was so mad, I told him “you made me eat grass J! Now YOU’RE gonna eat grass!” I grabbed a hand full of these vibrant colored blades….and pushed it in his mouth…..

If he’s reading this, I’m really sorry I did that. Smh he stopped laughing. But he loved me so much that he just let it go. He actually felt bad. We got off of the ground and he said he was sorry. We went in the house together calmly with dirt and grass stains, but he never told.

If you are reading this, I pray that you are granted peace in the midst of every storm that you encounter and a depth of consciousness that allows you to be present in the moment.

I pray that you are, connected, balanced, and Confident.

That you are loved, and that you love.

And that you know, I Love you. 💛

So, this conversation happened.

“Sonya how was your Valentines Day? Did you enjoy it?”

Me: yes it was good

As I walk away I hear

“You spent it alone?” *A bit of shade included*

I turned around and said

“no.”

And as I continue to walk off I heard

“did he eat the booty like groceries?”
……..

Now, while I know it was inappropriate, I was NOT offended. However I don’t understand why eating the booty like groceries has become the in thing. Don’t get me wrong I’m not judging anyone. What you do in the comfort of your bedroom is your own business. To each his own.

Butt But, Analingus, is not my idea of fun. I remember in elementary and middle school, the common, insult or retort was “you eat bOOty!” or “you toss salads!”

Now it’s like the cool thing to rap about. For example, today alone I heard these lyrics on the radio.

“Try to beat me there, let me be clear Is you eatin’ ass too? Nigga, pinky swear”

“He said, “Would I let him eat this ice cream, out my ass crack?””

I do wonder however if it’s actually really common or if it’s just in rap songs. And more so, why is it so cool to rap about? Have you noticed how much it’s being discussed?

This poem, by William Ernest Henley, is inspiring. It brings forth and influences peace for me. I hope the same for you.

“Out of the night that covers me, Black as the pit from pole to pole, I thank whatever gods may be For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

“Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate
I am the captain of my soul.”

It’s funny how people change when they are on the phone versus when you’re there in person. When the anonymity disappears. When you respond to their snarky slick comment with a easy toned “okay, thanks” and then pop up on them with an expression like “Hi! You said what now? Now what was that you said?” But you keep your tone professional, welcoming.

Be Kind Or Be Quiet… Sometimes

Xoticy kicked my butt! In the best way possible. Exhausted. Which is why this will be one of thee shortest blog posts I will have. Spending the day with my sweet niece and celebrating ourselves and my journey to 30 as we danced through two classes was the best.

Check Monica Wilson out. She is amazing. And if you think it looks easy, I assure you, your body will not agree. Try it.

https://youtu.be/W1m2y5fNHsM

When I was a child, living in Memphis, I played outside a lot. From the ages of 7 to maybe 13 I was riding bikes and walking barefooted in the dirt and grass.

Spending summers in cut offs, making toys from rope and sticks, throwing rocks, drinking water from green garden hoses, constructing stick homes in the crevices formed by the roots of the giant oak trees, catching lightening bugs, collecting earthworms after rain storms, playing in the rain letting my cotton candy thick wavy puffy hair swell to its full expansion, being one with the outdoors, being a southern kid. Countless mosquito bites, scrapes, cuts, bruises and one pair of brand new Levis torn in the crotch from jumping a fence…my Mother decided she’d had enough. “This has to stop!” She told me. “You can’t keep tearing up clothes and coming home cut up. You’ll be a young lady soon. You don’t want to be covered in scars. No more skateboard, no more rollerblading.” I didn’t feel all that upset. Or at all really. I just accepted it. I felt really bad for destroying those Levis and Skateboarding was hard anyways. Plus, I didn’t like all the bruises either.

She signed me up for softball and basketball instead…. I didn’t feel bad enough about destroying all those new clothes to pretend I liked these sports. And I NEVER went to basketball practice. Ever.

In honor of National Wine Drinking Day (FB said so) and new questions for old things, I’m wondering…

Did yall used to sing this when you were little?

Once upon a time
a Goose drank wine
the Monkey did the shimmy

on the streetcar line
the line broke
the Monkey got choked
and they all went to heaven ‘cept the Billy Goat

Tonight as I was saying this rhyme, I thought “the Monkey got choked huh? After doing the shimmy? Hmmm” I hope this isn’t a hidden meaning. I know in England as a kid, adults called children monkeys as a term of endearment. But here in the states, calling a black or brown child a “little monkey” is not sweet and carries racial undertones.

Hopefully the same is not true for this song I’ve been singing all my life.

And no, I didn’t actually drink any wine. I thought about it and my body said “I KNOW you lying” so instead, I had organic non-gmo cranberry juice cut with apple juice & no sugar added.

It was red, and the juice of fruit, so it’s like wines chill cousin. Close enough.

Oh friends…

When I was little, big bootys were not cool. By the time I was 8, I had a shape. I remember my sister (16) and her friends saying “your sister got a shape!” She would tell me “your the ONLY 8 year old with a shape!” She taught me how to model walk and to do the stank girl dance. It’s the dance you do in the club when you know you’re fine but kinda feeling yourself and not dancing with anyone else. I mastered it. I was like entertainment for her and friends. A party trick. The confidence helped me.

I got comments sometimes from adults and teenagers saying loudly in shock “Why is your booty so high on your back like that!?” Or getting checked like “if you look up, your head can rest on your booty!” All of which I just kept a straight face wonder what they were talking about.

I begged my Mom to stop putting me into those matching cotton top and bottoms outfits with the elastic waist bands. The rode up uncomfortably. & I realized that someone asked about my high booty every time I wore them 😩. She, in Mom fashion, thought they were cute. So I had to wear them.

I got the part I wanted in the 5th grade play as a turtle dove. I did NOT however want to wear a white leotard. Yall just don’t understand how much of a little ant I resembled. Big head, tiny body, humongous butt.

I put that outfit on at the house and realized how I looked… I begged her, “Mom I don’t want to go on stage like this! Please! I don’t wanna wear this to school. Everybody is going to be looking at me” she insisted “Nobody is going to be looking at you! You look so cute.” She was wrong. Very wrong. EVERYBODY was looking at me. Well, at my booty. Every – body. A few boys came up to me to say “Sonya! I really like your costume! You look different!” Smh

One summer around 14yrs old, I was riding my bike with my friends approaching the area where the boys would hang out. They were seemingly ALL on the porch, in the yard and around this particular house this day.

I was coming up the hill so I had to stand on my bike. I was wearing royal blue denim shorts and a matching fitted baseball tee. My hair was just pressed with ring curls so I was feeling cute.

Suddenly a commanding voice, Jon Jon to be exact, roared out “DANG!” he stood from the porch pointing towards me. (it was his house) His gaze grabbed the attention of all the other kids as they looked to see what had grabbed his attention. He yelled “THAT GIRL BOOTY SO BIG IT LOOK LIKE SHE WEARING A DIAPER!!!” everyone started screaming in laughter, falling out in hysterics, touching in agreement, cackling. Including my best friend who screamed “It DO!” followed by streaming tears. She couldn’t stop laughing. All my other friends were laughing too. I was thee only one without a smile. I kept a completely straight face.

There are so many more big booty stories but that’s enough for now. Thankfully I grew into it a lot and it became the cool thing to have a booty. So, it worked out in my favor.

Be #BodyPositive whatever you have. Love it.

My fear surfaced at age 4. We were living in England so maybe it was a transitional anxiety.

I was upstairs at home, when I felt something on my foot. I looked down and saw a tiny little spider crawling rapidly into the leg of my jeans. I knew I couldn’t catch it or get it out. I felt fear come over me like I never had before.

I took off running for safety downstairs removing every bit of clothing. I was screaming hysterically, which really frightened my sister who was 12 at the time. She screamed with me yelling “What’s wrong!? Sonya! what’s wrong!?!” She couldn’t figure it out and my speech, she said, was unintelligible.

What she did know, was that I’d removed my clothes, completely, while running down the stairs, without stopping. She still speaks of how impressed and amazed she was with my speed and agility.

She says she thought maybe I was on fire. “How do you take jeans and panties off while you run down stairs?” How? I was a prodigy, they just didn’t know it. I should have been an athlete.

I’ve gotten better. True progress, is not stripping down or crying when I’ve seen a spider on me. Because I can now do that, I know I can do anything. I am powerful.

I still don’t play with spiders though.