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.

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.

Not being “black enough” bothered me in the past. The insulting undertones wrapped in compliments packed with ignorance, bothered me. Sitting in my cubicle hearing white men comfortable enough to tell black jokes, bothered me. Being told “When I look at you, I see a gorgeous girl. I don’t know how anyone looks at you and sees BLACK” bothered me. Because I was sickened with understanding the sentiment & seeing that to others, black, was synonymous with “bad” “less than” “inferior” “not good enough”.

After another conversation about how I can’t possibly be all black followed by listening to Jouelzys commentary, I realized something. While I very well may not be “all black”, don’t try to police how I, as a black person, self identify. When I say I’m black, I’m black. #ThatsIt #MyMammaSaidYouCallinHerA***

I’m now okay with all the questions centered around “what are you”. I know it’s not automatically a negative statement and I am not offended. I embrace that I’m a bit alienesque 👽 and maybe look a little different. The questions are actually getting more interesting as I get older. I hear about people’s travels because of where they think I am from. So that’s fun. If the conversation is respectful, cool. Ask away. I encourage dialogue. I think it is key in our growth.

When I was twelve, I began to spend a lot of time with my sister and her significant other. For this blog, we will call him “T”. He was a young business man who, for most every practical sense had “made it” legitimately: Young money, new money and still hungry. We had so much fun together. He was like a big kid, so silly and absolutely hilarious. Although he was young and wealthy, he wasn’t tainted. He was always giving me tidbits of information and having teaching moments. On a few occasions, when my sister was on pickup duty but had to work, T would pick me up from school. I remember telling him “Drive a simple car to get me… and don’t get out…and pull in the back.” I walked out of the building, and there he was, parked near the back fence like I’d asked… in a Bentley. It was all black with windows so dark that you couldn’t see in. I took a deep breath and walked hurriedly to avoid being noticed by the other kids. When I got to the car, he wouldn’t let me get in the front seat. I fussed asking “Why did you drive this!?” He insisted that he made a good choice, that I was now the coolest kid in my school AND that I needed to sit in the back (I was between 13 and 15). His reasoning?

Rewind a few weeks back. This was in the early 2000’s. We were watching new music videos. A new model mint green Jaguar was in one of videos and I just fell in love with it. I thought it was the most beautiful thing. I told my sister and T, “I want to buy THAT car! When I grow up I’m going to get it” T asked “You really like that car?” I answered assuring him “yes!”
The next day, T called and told us to get dressed and come out side. I opened the door and in the driveway was the mint green Jaguar. I screamed! My sister was not happy, yelling “T!! What!?! Why did you buy this!?” I didn’t care. I ran to get my Mom to come see. T hurried us along. When I approached the car he made me get in the back, as usual. My sister sat in the front. But this time when he got in and shut his door he turned around and asked if I was happy with the car. My sisters eyes were probably about to boil out of her head. But, I was of course ecstatic. It was as perfect as I’d imagined, brand new with light colored leather interior. We never rode with clear windows and these hadn’t even been tinted yet. He told me “This is your car and it doesn’t matter that you can’t drive yet. You know, a lot of people think that when they have the money to go buy the car they want, that they’ve made it…But when you’ve really made it, you don’t drive your own car, you have a driver. That’s why you have to sit in the back.” We rode all through the city on that chilly rainy day listening to new music we’d seen on the videos. My sister only fussed a little more and then we all just gave into the peace that the calm sky was offering. It was perfect.
I’m still working to “make it”.

Oh my goodness Adventure River!

Three crazy things happened to me here.

1. My Auntie always told me that she nearly killed me in the tube circle as a baby. It was because I fell out / off the side of the inner tube and, I was way too fat to pull back in. I was a HUGE baby. She said that it was a very serious life threating matter. As she held on to me for dear life, nearing total fatigue and experiencing exhaustion, my Mom wouldn’t get me out. She couldn’t stop laughing. You should know, that my aunt cussed SO well! I mean eloquently and with precision. So it was probably hilarious. I lived. But just barely.

2. At about 7 years old, we went as a big family group. I was in the wave pool. The huge wave it takes a while to build came. I saw it approaching and was super excited! When it hit me, all I knew was that, I didn’t know anything at all. I was lost.
As everyone surfaced from being submerged, laughing and probably hand slapping or something, saying how much fun that was, they eventually realized they didn’t see me. “Sonya wasn’t that fun?!?” *ensuing joyous sun basked laughter* “Sonya?… Sonya?! OMG where’s Sonya?!” My family was frantic. I could hear them but I didn’t know where I was either! Every sound had become muffled as if they were all speaking through paper towel rolls. Suddenly I felt myself being flipped over. Wide eyed and confused with a half-smile still placed as the thinning water ran down my face. I had been upside down and somehow remained properly placed in the inner tube, my little hands still tightly gripping the plastic handles. “Sonya! Are you okay?!” Meanwhile I’m still smiling. “Sonya!” *they turn to the others* “She’s confused. She doesn’t know what’s happening. Sonya, can you breathe?” My sister Erica runs up and says “Sonya, you were upside down the entire time. Under water! We were looking for you!”

3. When I was 8 or 9 I went back to the water park with Erica and her cool friends. She took me everywhere and looked out for me. We were so excited. I was finally old enough to slide on the biggest, fastest slide. When we got to the top the attendant kept telling me, “Do not sit up until you’re at the very bottom” I assured him that I understood and took the plunge. It was crazy fast and it seemed like it was going on forever. I kept thinking “is it time to sit up now? It’s probably time to sit up. I’m probably waiting too long.” When I got to the straight flat part of the slide, I sat up. I heard my sister, the attendants at the top and bottom of the slide and bystanders yelling “No! NO! Nooo!” I was so confused. My sister and the AR worker ran over to me yelling “Are you Okay?!” I was looking at them wondering what they were talking about and they kept fussing “Why did you do that!?” Erica told me “you were going SO fast! You sat up way too soon! Does your booty hurt?” She pulled me up and I knew something was not right. She leaned me forward to make sure my butt wasn’t scraped up. “Pull your swim suit out of your butt!” I tried and I honestly couldn’t. The force of the water had given me a full on kiddie thong. The attendant was saying how he knew 8/9 year olds were still too little for this slide. “I knew we shouldn’t be letting little kids get on here! She’s probably not even 8!” My sister was getting visibly nervous trying to remove this wedgie before we left the slide area. She struggled but we got it out.
I think that was my last visit to Adventure River. But, if they came back to Memphis, I might go again. I still love water parks. Disney’s Typhoon Lagoon brought an adventure of its own…. but that’s another story.

Onetime I composed a three page text message venting my frustrations to one friend about another particular person. Then, I

accidentally sent it to that particular person. Yes, I did. I guess after texting that person’s name several times within the vent, that when I

clicked the “enter recipient” box, I typed their name.

After I sent it to them I realized what I had done. Initially for about 2 seconds I was like “OMG” that was the wrong person! Then I was like

“Oh well! Good! That’s what I needed to tell them anyways! Now I don’t have to take way more time and energy to make sure it doesn’t

sound mean.” It didn’t turn out to be a big fuss. I guess it all needed to be said and recognized anyways.

#Onetime