Solynya

“Allyson! Shake what you got in them jeggingssss!!!!” -Kai

Every time I recall my cousin saying this, I smile, or am overcome by laughter. This is how I remember it: Allyson and I were leaving a party my cousin was having. Everyone was twerking and laughing and having fun. They followed us out yelling and dancing around the car before we got in. They didn’t want us to leave.

When they finally let us go, my cousin Kai yelled out to us “Ally-son! Shake what you got in them jeggingsss!!!” It was so animated and accompanied by a little dancing prompt. Instead of dancing back, Allyson yelled out “These are NOT jeggings!” Which of course made me cripple over in laughter because of how straight faced she was. She wouldn’t let me call them jeggings either.

Even though Allyson didn’t want her pants to be jeggings, they probably would have been helpful to me in high school when stretch jeans weren’t a thing, before the textiles industry began to incorporate a little spandex into most garments, and almost none of my pants fit properly. Unfortunately, that wasn’t a thing yet.

https://youtu.be/mPICTG6Ppbg

This post is dedicated to my cousin Kai. Hilarious and full of life and love.

Kai 11.7.91 – 3.10.17

Life as a little kid, with a big butt….

It is a widely accepted and even desired aesthetic to have a big butt these days. Maybe it was in the 90’s as well, but, as a little kid it wasn’t all fun. Questions that you don’t know how to answer from strangers or other kids like “hey, why does your butt sit up on your back like that?!!” “Huh? I don’t know…I’m a kid?…..” Or “Hey, when you look straight up, and hold your head all the way back, does it rest on your booty?” These are real questions that I was asked.

Instead of going on, I’ll just share this video with you. Today is a two for one. Part II is in the next blog post. Check it out.

https://youtu.be/5krj9I8-TkE?list=PLq_BjA0q55Mffmw3h2hNOKEQGngkkscLo

https://youtu.be/l2MgSc8fRUg

There is beauty in your interests and desires.

Explore them unapologetically.

It is acceptable to be yourself, no matter how weird, odd, or different.

Your wholeness is appropriate.

Your wholeness is beautiful.

Your wholeness is needed.

And if you wanna play with Barbies…. Play with Barbies, no matter your age.

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.

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”.

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.

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.

I do my best to live my life with a holistic approach.
I do my best to maintain balance.
I do my best to view the obstacles I encounter as the stepping stones they are:
An offering of opportunity to grow stronger and gain strength and depth,
A way to be better prepared to evolve, to excel,
A way to be sure my steps are properly ordered in a purposeful path,
A way to tap into my power…

I also do my VERY best to keep the crust off of my heels… Literally. That is not a metaphor. I mean, I really do.
Let me help you with what I’ve found.

One summer day my Mom came by to visit me. We were going to hang for a few hours. When I put my sandals on, it was as if I suddenly noticed an ashiness on my feet no lotion could moisturize. She insisted that I keep my dainty shoes on instead of covered ones because they were cute, and the ash wasn’t that bad (Mom Love niceness). So I did. We walked into our first stop, to pick up my detox bath salt. She ventured over to the body butter table and started to smell the products. She’s not big on scents so I was surprised when she said “Oh! Pineapple! This one smells so good! And my hands are SO soft. Sonya, come put some of this on your feet!” across the store in full Mother fashion of course.
I was hesitant, not being big on “butters” but I tried it. Like many other instances, Mom was right. The smell was fresh and sweet, natural and rich but not overbearing. I rubbed a little in my hands and on my heels. Amazingly, some kind of miracle happened. The dryness that the expensive Dr. Scholl’s ultra-foot cream and every other lotion in my house couldn’t soften was moisturized! I bought one, Coconut Milk scent because Pineapple was sold out.

We headed on our way smelling like fresh tropical fruit, bouncing on soft feet. By the time we made it to lunch, I looked down at my heels as I stepped out of the car, Yall, not one ashy indention was visible! My feet hadn’t been covered with socks; they were open in summer sandals. But this Body butter worked like no other. I knew then. “I gotta tell everyone about this!” The Bubble Bistro (local if you’re in Memphis or N.O.) is FYE! The butter has replaced my body lotion and it is love! It’s part of the reason my hugs are usually followed by “Mmmm *leans in again* you smell so good! Mmmm”

If you’ve wanted to keep your feet sweet or get rid of dents and cracks… get some. Make it even sweeter with a “Mr. Pumice Pumi Bar” and “CeraVe” Foaming Facial Cleanser. These are a few of my favorite products that I use every day. Any time you wear shoes that rub off or encounter dirt that is stubborn on your feet, just a squirt of this soap on your scrub bar will take it all away. Moisturize with body butter, and soothing foot massage. Life will just feel good.

Don’t neglect your feet please. Talk to them, love on them, and take a little time with them. It can help to relax you entirely. Don’t be “too busy” for it. If you don’t have time, make time. The tasks you must carry out require your mind, body, and spirit. Your body is your gift and your tool. A positive contribution to one part of you can be good for all parts of you. To neglect one part is, well, … just love on your feet too, okay?

Take a deep breath in, make it slow and controlled, then slowly breathe out. Relax your toes, relax your shoulders, and relax your face.

From your soles to you soul, your crown to your aura, make your Body and Spirit a priority. Take care of yourself.