I don't like "meant to be"s...

...but I can't help feeling like I was meant to be where I was on Saturday evening. I went to a natural hair meetup cohosted by my girl @HGKWW and saw a young-ish Black woman rocking a low fade. I made a note of her and how she pulled the style off with elegance--since my mom called me crying after she cut all her hair off after it began falling out in clumps, I've been making a mental note of bald/near bald Black women that I see out and about, so I can say with honesty that that look is in right now when I talk with her about it.

About an hour later, before a giveaway, this woman starts speaking and handing out flyers. Her name is Andrene Taylor. She is thirty three years old and has beaten lymphoma three times already. She's currently preparing for a triathlon and serving as the President of an amazing Foundation called ZuriWorks, whose purpose is to raise cancer awareness in Black female communities. And even more, she is hosting an event this coming weekend called It'll Grow Back! Loving your Hair with Natural Care, which along with dealing out knowledge and tips for naturals generally, will feature discussion about the pros and cons of wearing wigs post-chemo, when hair starts growing back, how the hair that grows back differs from the hair you had before, and how hair and healing are connected mentally, emotionally, psychologically, and spiritually. 

Here, in a place hundreds of miles from home, at an event co-hosted by a friend I made at a school I had a 9% chance of getting into, which I learned about via a website that I stumbled upon when lamenting the fact that I didn't know how to make friends in the real world, I found just what my mother needs. My eyes started welling up just as I was listening to her talk, and I waited patiently while she had another conversation later in the evening just so that I could speak with her, shake her hand, and tell her that she is an inspiration. 

I want so badly for my mom to come down to go to the event on Sunday, but she has decided against it because it's a lot of travelling for her to do by herself. My Nana offered to drive her, but she's already driving her to Philly for her appointment with her oncologist on Friday and to Dover and back twice the following Thursday to move my sister in to school, so she didn't want to put that on her too. I understand all of that, but I'm still disappointed. This would be so good for her. I might go anyway just so I can pass on the knowledge. 

Though I am never anything but the picture of optimism to my mother, I feel safe enough here to say that meeting someone who has been through this again and again and is THRIVING did wonders for me. I want her to know that her very existence is helping. I want to help her help other people. I very nearly want to *thank* someone for the peculiar series of events that led to us meeting on Saturday, because few other introductions have every felt so wholly right. 

"You never know how much shit you have until you have to move it."

That's what people always say, right? And as a person who moves a substantial percentage of her belongings approximately three times a year (oh college life), I thought I'd become quite familiar with how much shit I have. 

But when I was packing yesterday, I decided that I should go through the clothes sitting in my drawers/closet that I hadn't worn in a long time, and I found tops I legitimately hadn't thought about since freshman year, maxi dresses I probably won't ever wear again, shorts that don't fit, sweaters I hate, an old winter coat, tops that I need to stop pretending fit...to make a long story short, I filled two trash bags with clothing that can be sent to Goodwill/The Salvation Army. And I'm even having gotten rid of all of that, I'm still bringing a medium-sized suitcase, a small suitcase, two duffel bags, and a garment bag full of clothes with me to school. And on top of all of that, I have a separate (albeit much smaller) 'professional wardrobe' that is staying in a drawer in my dresser at home til interview season rolls around in the Spring.

And [though this should perhaps happen more often] I'm not sure I've ever felt so disgustingly privileged. There was a time in my youth where I thrifted not because thrifting was in, but because my family had to. When exactly did I go from being that girl to a girl who is giving away a sweater from Macy's? Macy's used to be "too rich for my blood." My mom still says that. She also won't own anything white because it'll get too dirty, and I just packed a pair of white pants (No white after Labor Day "rule," you don't OWN ME!) When did I become a person who had the means to revitalize her wardrobe a little bit each year? 

Now don't get me wrong, I love that I can do this. I love that my clothing can continue to reflect my personality as I grow and change and come into my own. But I suppose I'm just realizing right now that my life is full of extraordinary luxuries. Some day the necessities of my life will be less taken care of by the institution(s) in my life and I will have to spend my own money on things like food and keeping a roof over my head. I'm starting the food thing a little this year, even, in preparation. I just, in loving my freedom and ability to wear a different shirt every day for more than a month (probably more than two if I existed in some season-less space where t-shirts, tank tops, and sweaters could be interchanged at will), I also want to recognize how the current circumstances of my life have spoiled me. 

But the most important part about this spoiling, this privilege, is that it demands conscientiousness and responsibility. I just started decluttering my bedroom and will wind up helping somebody take care of some bodies. So the next time you're bored laying around or something, go through your closet/dresser/the mess under your bed and see what is no longer serving you. Let it serve someone else.