Inside the mind of a kind of quirky, pretty stubborn, way too opinionated, twenty-something, heteroflexible Black female newly employed up-and-moved-to-DC Princeton GRADUATE who's just trying to sort out her life. An uninhibited celebration of all that is me, this blog is an exercise in self-discovery and live-with-your-heart-wide-open-ness. Though I make respect a habit, I will not always be politically correct, and I believe in the power of making audiences uncomfortable to inspire change.
I had to go there. There can be no talking about beliefs without it.
The principle for the seventh and last day of Kwanzaa, which always falls on the first day of the new year, is Imani, or Faith. And before you groan anticipating a rant about how infuriating I find the presumption that all Black peoples are Christian (or at the very least, religious), remember that Kwanzaa is entirely 100% a non-religious holiday. The principle of Imani, rather than calling upon us to be faithful in the religious sense, calls instead for us "to believe with all our heart in our people, our parents, our teachers, our leaders, and the righteousness and victory of our struggle." Today calls for us to do more than keep hope alive; it calls for us to keep fighting the good fight. It calls for the absolution erasure of internalized -isms (racism, sexism, colorism, classism, heteronormativism, etc.) from our communities, a task which may be impossible, but for which we should still strive. Remember what the homeboy Nas said (but take it with a grain of salt because it buys into the myth of American meritocracy): If you believe, you can achieve, so say it like this--I know I can (I know I can) be what I wanna be (be what I wanna be) if I work hard at it (if I work hard at it) I'll be where I wanna be (I'll be where I wanna be). Imani calls for the recognition of our beauty, our worth, and our accomplishments, but at the same time it demands we do not shy away from our shortcomings, that we do not abandon sections of our communities in their times of need.
I believe in myself and the goals I have for myself; the vision I have of my own future is what keeps me motivated. I believe in the power of true friendship. I believe that words are a double-edged sword of hurt and healing. I believe in love. I believe in luck. I believe in strength in numbers, and in the ability of a community (or even a community of communities) to demand and implement change. I believe that we shall overcome. I believe that every child can succeed if given the right tools. And I just love the way "the righteousness and victory of our struggle" rolls off my tongue.
that still wants to believe in Santa Claus. It's the same voice that used to wish my mom and dad would realize they still loved each other and get back together when I was a little kid (though when my father revealed that he might still have feelings for my mother to me a few years ago, I was almost disgusted). It's the same voice that never quite stopped identifying with every single one of the Disney Princesses, despite all the reasons Disney doesn't sit well with grown up concerned about the sociological implications of life me. (Reasons 1, 2, and 3 amongst others.) It's the same voice that compels me to make a wish at 11:11 and to want someone to kiss at midnight on New Year's Eve (this will happen eventually, dammit, I swear!). It's the same voice that has been telling me I'm full of shit for years whenever I said I don't believe in love. It's the voice that craves romance and wants to replay scenes from her favorite movies in real life (the upside-down kiss from Spiderman (check), a bunch of scenes from The Notebook, etc.). It's the voice that [though it allows the insertion of "Working hard to maintain their relationship,"] wants to believe they really can live happily ever after, despite everything in the world telling her they can't. This little voice is stubborn. It agrees to grow up only under the condition that this does not require becoming jaded. It still believes it can do everything I have ever dreamed and not have to sacrifice my well-being to do it. It still wears an S on its chest. It wants to find the rainbows end and still loves swingsets and compels me to dance in the rain and spend time admiring the stars. It's the voice that wants to throw temper tantrums, and I'm pretty sure it's where both my tears and my smiles originate. This little voice has faith, crazy blind stupid I-give-it-hella-side-eye faith. Faith in my decisions, faith in my relationships, faith in love and peace and joy and growth and change and reciprocity and karma, faith in adages like "We reap what we sow" and "What goes up must come down" and "This, too, shall pass." It has faith in the small chance that tomorrow can be better even if today was the worst day of my life, and that even if it seems impossible I can do better and I can be better at whatever goals I have set. It has faith in ME. It's the voice that says to let the haters hate, because I'm brilliant/gorgeous/fabulous/wonderful. It wants someone else to confirm that, but doesn't NEED external confirmation. It scoffs at the idea of validation. It never quite lets me believe that all is lost. It might be a small little voice, but it has my back--that voice is one of my ride-or-die bitches.
Find that voice in yourself, and let it be your best friend. [Don't tell your best friends, though. ...Oops.]
