Solynya

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.

“I will love you anyway
Even if you cannot stay
I think you are the one for me
Here is where you want to be

I just want to satisfy ya
You’re not mine and I can’t deny it
Don’t you hear me talkin’, baby
Love me now or I’ll go crazy”

This is the song that I’m singing to by abs. They are still beneath the surface. The plan is to bring them to the forefront for all to see the beauty that I know is within. Soon enough….

This song is also one of my Mothers favorites. She would tell me stories of living in Guam and being a part of a singing group. This was the song she lead. “We were really good! I could sing then” she says.

As a kid, our house was often filled with music, pouring from my Dad’s speaker system. From loud weekend party’s to chill saturday morning house clean up or just evenings at home we would hear artist like, Bob Marley, Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin and Chaka Khan. (Maybe a little Snoop too)

So I wrote a long post on advice from a loved one regarding Relationships, Love, and Sex…. The draft was deleted. So for today’s blog post, you get a flash back…

Jump in the carrrr smash that gas move back and let Sonya pass She said oohdawop Look at that booty oohdawop don’t it look cutie oohdawop don’t you want some oohdawop Caint get none.

Bye ✌

I know he looks a little homeless and high. But I also know about “modern homelessness” (my own term) and present day food insecurity, and that they do not look the way that we tend to think they do. BUT I digress… this is a light post so I’ll keep it surface. I just want yall to know, Childish Gambino is talented and you should take some time to listen to him. #ListenUp

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.

In today’s blog I won’t say much, because Jouelzy said it ALL! You betta SPEAK Jouelzy!

“African Americans most definitely have a culture though it is not monolithic and we don’t have the nomenclature to define the different sectors among us… And I stand by not policing on how black folks choose to self identify” -Jouelzy

This Ash Wednesday I opted for Mass AFTER work as to avoid keeping this expression the entirety of the day.

Every year I hear things like:

Hey you know you got some dirt on your head?

You said that’s ashes? Why?

*reaches thumb towards forehead in wiping ready motion*

I thought you were Buddhist?!

You’re not Muslim!?

It’s Black Catholic people?!

You know they worship Mary. Right?

So you worship statues?

You know, I don’t do that. I’m Christian.
——

I am not a spokesperson for the Catholic Church so I’m not going to give a breakdown here but, friends,

Catholics are Christians. Do not wipe anyone’s ashes off.

Also, a jade necklace, meditating, the sign of the cross or a hijab do not give you full insight into someone’s beliefs.

When someone is fasting and praying to become more focused and grow to be a better version of themselves, it benefits you as well. Being that you are a human who will have interactions with them, directly or indirectly.

If you are participating this Lenten season, be encouraged.

And either way, from Dust you came and to dust you shall return. This is not your destination but it is a part of your journey. Grow in it.

Peace Be With You ✌

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”.