Solynya

Sometimes I wish I had instant bae magic. Like, I could snap my fingers or wiggle my nose or I dream of genie nod. You know? I would use it instead of doing things like:
-succumbing to the petty desire of talking into my head phones, knowing no one is on the phone because an unwanted stranger isn’t satisfied with the simple greeting that I’m willing to exchange on my shopping trips

-Or when a guy won’t leave me alone after I’ve let him know I’m not interested and he asks, “what, your man won’t let you have a friend?” I’d use instant bae then, instead of tapping my home screen button and beginning to make a call saying to this presumptuous stranger “let me ask him”.

The stories can be funny after the fact, when I’m in a safe place. But it’s no joking matter in the midst of a moment with a strange (or sometimes somewhat familiar) man who doesn’t respect your space. The subject can get touchy and complex.
The truth of a body that falls victim to isms and benefits from privilege as well is not always well received. Often times, blame comes about, logic is thrown out and balance can’t be found.

He tried to push his way into your apartment, a stranger? Well you’re a very pretty girl. What do you expect? He was probably drunk.

He reached up your skirt and grabbed you? Why did you wear a skirt to the party?

He attacked you? What did you say to him?

He’s angry because he thinks you owe him? You were too nice. You led him on.

He’s being rude to you? You should have given him a chance.

They wouldn’t stop touching you? What did you wear?

We are many times taught to take blame for being disrespected and violated.
I truly enjoy the presence of a respectful Man on an outing; even the Peace I have knowing that people will often treat me with more respect. I know that his presence is more respected than my polite reply of “No thank you” or “I’m not interested”. And while I enjoy that added comfort and safety, I can’t help to wonder how this issue isn’t more widely recognized. How do we continue to allow and sometimes foster misogyny rather than teach mutual respect?

I can’t let my 30 day blog challenge go by with out sharing one of my once unadulterated loves with you. My first video/music post is, my ex future husband. At first, I just liked him. I remember being about 8 years old sitting in the back of the van rapping his lyrics. By the time I was 19, the summer “BE” was released, I was seriously in love with this man. Which I know is crazy being that I never met him but it wasn’t in a fan girl way. It didn’t feel that way to me at least. I admired his consciousness and artistry. His music helped me through some really difficult situations in my life. I listened to his music ALL of the time. I would listen to his interviews repeatedly because the sound of his voice soothed me. It still does really. I used to be like “God, I want to marry this man. You made him so perfectly” plus I already had his last name.

When he started dating Erykah Badu, I wasn’t even mad. I love her so much I felt like if he could be with anyone else other than me, she should be the one. “The Light” is perfection, the song and the video. It’s SO sweet when he puts that blanket on Badu while she’s sleeping.

“As my reflection in light I’ma lead you
And whatever’s right, I’ma feed you
Digga-da, digga-da, digga-da, digga-digga-da-da
Yo I tell you the rest when I see you, peace✌”

https://youtu.be/W_-qRcHAhzk

With his brown skin and characteristics undoubtedly descended from the African Diaspora, he stands before me and tells me that “I don’t date black women”

their attitudes are too bad
and their hair is nappy and kinky

not pretty and silky
they have kinks not curls

He continues on, and on, and on….

*In my thoughts*
Sonya, don’t speak. Don’t, as not to create more distance between us as a whole. But really the distance in support is there already. The dialogue creates discomfort and exposes a dissonance. It is not creating a distance. But the conversation is needed to change this.

His words seep between my placid placed expressions, waving away my inner dialogue, and I hear him say

“But not you Sonya. You’re different. You aren’t really like BLACK girls. You’re pretty and you’re smart. And you look mixed! You have nice pretty hair. You’re well spoken and I like your color, even if you aren’t light skinned.”

“Do you date white dudes? I could see you with a white dude. Yall would probably get along. Is your Mom white?….”

My stream of thoughts are triggered in, and I can no longer hear him. Voices of words once spoken return to me. Visitation. “You need to stop trying to find a black man.” “They don’t do right.” “Statistically there aren’t enough for ALL of you to have one. Somebody gotta get something else” “Step out of the box. Choose another color” “Why are you only dating black men!? Ugh. That’s why you’re single” “You’re close minded. Everybody can’t have chocolate babies”

But…. Outsides aside, I need a different kind of support. The world is tough enough. I am not in the business of recruiting naysayers. I need someone with faith SO strong, He can believe in me and my dreams. So strong, he can see me in the places that I will one day be. So strong that his masculinity is not defined by society, weak & stuffed with bravado….

Goddess, he calls me. I Love, your spirit. I love your complexion. You’re beautiful. You’re intelligent. I believe you will accomplish you dreams. I will continue to support you in your pursuits. I will keep encouraging u, til the sky falls.

He speaks Life into me.

He speaks positivity into my life.

The Distance Between Us… too far to exist as one in harmony? No.

Henna art is one of my favorite things. I imagined for a while, having a piece done from my shoulder to my hip. So I got it! Here are the some of the photos, the ones that I could find. I’ve held on to them for long enough.

#LetMeShareMyPiece #MyFavoriteThings

When We Were Very Young Now We Are Six by A. A. Milne is one my favorite books. My Mom bought it for me when I was four and I loved it. She read to me all the time. Things like Richard Scarry, poetry books, & books about animals.
According to my parents, I have always asked a lot of questions, about everything, and was always kind of weird. Thankfully they embraced me and let me believe I was normal. We moved back to the States before my 7th birthday. School was very different here than it was in my British Kindergarten and 1st year classrooms. The kids quickly let me know that I was “different”. Frustrated by my questions, my teacher angrily told me that she did not understand anything that I was saying (due to my very strong British accent) and voiced to the class that she didn’t know why they put me in HER class. She wished they hadn’t. She asked rhetorically that I please not speak to her at all, and to actually just not say anything at all, to anyone. After a bit of torture and an introduction to bulling first grade style, I headed back to kindergarten.

At home, I would ask my Mom about topics that I was interested in. If she didn’t know, we looked it up. She taught me how to use the encyclopedia and how to research. We had an extensive collection. I remember being fascinated with The Portuguese man of war, the Ankh, The Eye of Ra and The Eye of Horus. Some days, we did this in the mornings. When we finished the lesson, she would tell me “now, you can go to school” and we’d laugh.

On a visit from Chicago, my Aunt noticed my interest in research and reading encyclopedias. She later sent me a very nice, large, information packed, children’s World Book. In the first page of this hard back book was a hand written letter directly to the blank page. She is a gifted writer and I was elated. This gift was everything to me.

Hand written messages in books are still very special to me. Somehow, seeing the message gives me peace in the fact that, one day, we won’t be here. I find letters in books gifted to me from my Grandma Lula dated 86, 87, 88, the first years of my life. It makes me feel very connected to her even though she has passed.

My love for words, writing, reading, poetry, and books has probably always been a part of me. Coming from a family of writers, I believe that it is in my blood.

So this week, I’m sharing the love by sending books to a few people in my life AND by continuing to share my stories and thoughts to the blog for whoever is reading this. Feel free to do the same.