Don’t ask for a light load

Don’t ask for a light load, but rather ask for a strong back.-- Author Unknown

Remind yourself of all the times you believed the tasks ahead of you were too difficult or too demanding. What did you do? Did you give up and find something easier to tackle? Did you whine, cry, and complain until someone came to your aid and did the tasks for you? Did you do the tasks any kind of way just to get them done and then watch them turn out in a way that wasn’t so great or at least less than the best? Or did you just dig in until you got the missions accomplished?

Remind yourself of the times you dug in and worked hard and long to get a thing done. What’d you do? When you took the task apart a little at a time, did you stare the challenge in its face and declare yourself the conqueror – whether you believed it or not? Did you find your guts and chutzpah then slowly but certainly expand your brain power, temperament, outlook, and approach to get the job done? Did you focus your entire energies on the job and commit your mind and muscles to fully cooperate as you pulled off the task? The more intensive the task became, did you keep employing inward motivation and resolve, and when the task didn’t work just right the first time, did you push through surrender and discover new reserves of patience and resiliency tucked beside the alcoves of your wit and right below the bay of your heart? Did you look up and become encouraged as you saw the light at the end of the tunnel, your supporters cheering you on, and satisfaction approaching?

Did you pat yourself on the back when you got the thing done? Did you look different? Did you feel stronger, more powerful? Did you take that same look and feel on to the next task and get it done with the identical spirit, doggedness, courage, and gusto you mustered with your previous task? Did you have to dig deeper to find greater stockpiles of muscle and hustle? Did you find it easier to search your wellsprings for what you needed? When your territory was enlarged and your efforts paid off, did you celebrate your accomplishment and lovingly reward yourself with admiration?

The truth be told, the load doesn’t really ever get lighter, and the mess is usually always somewhere near. But you’ve built up enough ingenuity, agency, and willpower to get through it like the champ you are. Keep reminding yourself of that.

Of course, in retrospect, if you want to really assess and revere how far you’ve come, think of the situations in which you did throw in the towel, whine really loudly, and do the thing just any old way just to get it done. Yeah, you had your reasons for doing such – some valid, others shady. But now think on all the skill sets you’ve developed since that time. You’re stronger, wiser, sharper, more ambitious, and especially buoyant these days. Heck, if you wanted to, you could go back and handle all that stuff now. But what’s the point in going back when there’s so much more ahead to tackle? You didn’t know then what you know now, you weren’t supposed to, and who the hell’s keeping track anyway?

Take your load, take it slow, keep digging and building your backbone for the next load for a strong back makes for greater strides.

Sadiqqa © 2008

Given all the facts cited above and according to all psychological theory, black women in America should have the highest rate of suicide; yet we press on and live on. We make up seventy percent of our congregations on our churches. We are the ones holding our homes together.
-- Audrey F. Bronson, “Sister to Sister”

Enough said? Some of us would think so. Even the “Thought...,” thought so some few years ago, bless its heart.

But let’s give credit to the other half of the African American equation. Brothas, you are awesome, too!

Too often, when lifting Black women and lauding our hard earned accomplishments, we fail to mention Black men optimistically. Every Black man is not a playa, a dead beat, or a moocher. There are many who hold women in the highest esteem. There are many who walk with us and hold us up when our walk becomes too overwhelming or frightening. There are Black men who would give their lives just to see us, our children, and community remain unharmed and empowered. You know these men.

These are the Black men who stay and endure the hardships with us so that we don’t commit suicide or homicide. These are the Brothas who work hard to make life happen as positively and fruitfully as they can despite the many obstacles and interferences stacked against them and us. These are the men who make us laugh after a good cry, smile through the pain, and feel at ease when all hell has broken loose and there’s no visible light at the end of the tunnel. You know these men.

These are the Black men who would never think of committing acts of violence against us, even when we’ve pulled the last straw and thrown the first blow. These are the men who love us even when we find it hard to love ourselves; the Black men who love our children as fathers even though they aren’t theirs; the Brothas who hold family in its rightful place; and the Brothas who are conscious and work diligently to fulfill the needs in our families, the community, and across the world. You do know these men.

If you aren’t sure, look around you. You see that Brotha over there taking care of his body and mind, who visits his doctor for regular check-ups, guidance, and information? What about that Brotha over there who’s happily pushing his grandson on the swing? Look at that Black man there holding the hand of that beautiful woman with the relaxed and peaceful expression on her face. And what about that Black man over there who showed up for work today, on time, ready to be productive and accountable? You see that one there, speaking his heart and acting on God’s will to make useful change in the world? And check out that Black man there, the one next to you in the pew praising the Creator. See? Yeah, you know them.

A summary of the statistics indicate that Black men have it rough too, right? Let’s never forget or get so caught up in our fight that we forget to laud Brothas and their fight too. Our challenges are huge is big and so are theirs. Keep at the forefront the Fight in its entirety.

Sadiqqa © 2008

When there are dead ends there are also U-turns, and if we don’t panic, bridges can appear – we just need to trust that there is a way. And there is always a way.
-- Arianna Huffington, “On Becoming Fearless”

Where there is will, there’s a way. If you fell in, you can climb back out. If you fell down, you can get back up. If your back is against the wall, slide attentively along the wall until you find the opening that’ll get you on the other, clearer side.

Some days can be pure hell, and sometimes those days turn into weeks, months, and years at a time, so much so we begin to believe our lives were made for misery. But God did not place you here to live a life of sorrow and misfortune. Jesus did not come to earth for you to suffer and remain in distress. The ancestors didn’t toil this earth for you to unhappy or grief-stricken, and your babies and the babies to come don’t want to – should not have to – wallow in a path of gloom and hopelessness. Turn it around. Life isn’t meant to be that way.

Sadiqqa © 2008

As long as you don’t look ahead in the workbook, you can make it through today’s lesson.
-- Cynthia Copeland Lewis, “Really Important Stuff My Kids Have Taught Me”

Way down the road looks so far away, especially if you have 6 more laps to go before you make a mile or a year to go before you hit your ideal weight. Down the road is far away if you’ve got to make $3,756 more dollars until you get to $5,000. Down the road is especially far if it’s Wednesday, pay day isn’t until Friday, and you have a negative $500 in your account. Later is a long way off and tomorrow just won’t come quick enough.

All the more reason to enjoy today, or pay attention to this very moment. Instead of getting caught up in what will or won’t happen tomorrow, think of what’s happening right now.

Sure, right now your money’s slim to none and your body is aching as you push toward that mile. But just think – right now, at this very moment, you’re breathing which means you’re alive. Being alive right now means that you can look around and take in all that you see, hear, and feel. And what do you see right now? Possibly you see others of God’s babies trying as you are to make it around that track. My, that lady’s got strong calves. Possibly you hear the birds who’ve joined you for this morning’s stroll singing and cooing their favorite tune. Hmmm, which bird is making that chirp – a blue jay, that sparrow, or is that the call of a morning dove? Maybe you feel the tightening of your hamstrings with each pace or the thinning and stretching of your ab fat with each sway of your hips. Suck in your stomach, bend your knees deeper, tighten your butt. Ahhh. Guess what! Your focus has changed! You’re no longer thinking about the stretch left ahead. As a matter of fact, you’re on the last lap with inches to go. All because you stayed in the moment and paid attention to the now.

Paying attention to the now simply means you’re not overlooking a single thing that’s going on around you, like eating a meal and actually tasting it or driving to work and really seeing all the things on the way. You’re taking in every thing no matter how big or small, savoring its quintessence until you can’t get any more from it, and you’re doing it with every fiber and sensation of your being. Your mind is right there in it, you’re fully present and not somewhere else like on later or tomorrow.

Now, that’s not to say you shouldn’t plan for tomorrow or be prepared for what could come later. By all means, plan because if you’re fortunate enough to see tomorrow, you’ve got to have something in it. But don’t be stumped by tomorrow or even wish that tomorrow would hurry up and get here. Don’t rush your life, you’ve got too much to do and enjoy in this moment.

In the moment – which, if you think about it, it’s the only time you really have – close your eyes, sit quietly, and breathe. Feel the air flowing through your lungs and in and out of your body. Be aware of and acknowledge the thoughts that come into your head. If those thoughts are about tomorrow, or even yesterday, they aren’t about the hum of this moment and, if you’re intentionally trying to focus on the moment, you should immediately put them out of your head. And, it’s not easy to live in or focus on the moment; we are a nation of people too accustomed to multitasking and impatience for the practice of mindfulness to be a simple and basic habit. But with practice, you can do so and ultimately eliminate some of the anxiety and stress that constantly bombard your life.

Tomorrow is important and later on will come. However, investing in right now with your whole self is even more important in order that there be a later on and tomorrow. Do today, right now, and trust that tomorrow will take care of itself.

Sadiqqa © 2008

The people on top of the mountain did not fall there.
-- Author Unknown

No, the people who have taken on the mountain have climbed to its peak step by step and slope by slope.

At the foot of the mountain, the people found themselves stuck in the weighty dust of desolation and the impenetrable mud of confusion and suffering. The air there was murky and cast a shadow of fear and isolation upon those ground dwellers. Walking in endless circles, digging themselves in deeper, and treading more conflict and disorder onto their shoes and into their lives, they decided there was nowhere to go but up. There had to be something better further up.

They began to climb over the sharp rocks near the base of the mountain, rocks that felt like soul piercings that tore at the very core of who they believed themselves to be. The rocks scratched through the surfaces of facades they’d carried and caused those fronts to bleed, open wide, and swiftly ooze the posturing upon which they were built. Now, some, finding it impossible to live without that public face, slid back down the bumpy mountain, bruising and scarring themselves, and accepting their lot, at least for the time being. The others who’d weathered the loosening of the pretentiousness continued their climb, their load lighter and less indistinct.

As they traveled on, they took many breaks. During those times of rest from strenuous, back-breaking climbing over and between the many obstacles that had taken root and formed boulders in their thinking, they discovered wonderful and empowering essentials about themselves. Things like awesome creativity, a love of nature and all things natural, and a desire to help others and do more than take up space on earth. With each new discovery, the people were able to climb further up the mountain. Some, stuck on amassing only a little knowledge – for acquiring a lot required regular climbs into the vales and deep holes of the mountain – stayed put near the subpeaks of the mountain, satisfied and snug at that place, at least for a while. The others, rested, well-preserved, and blooming, continued upward, their eyes searching for the parent pinnacle they believed just around the corner of the mountain.

Around many of the mountains’ corners, the people found a mishmash of trials to vanquish. There was a great deal of truth-telling, honesty, and speaking up; lots of emotional upheaval and repair. There was shedding, shedding of excuses that once sounded rational but were really only self-serving and horrendously limiting. There was the simple shedding of things that never fit in the first place, like the expensive, must-have but never worn Italian leather shoes – 2 sizes too small that hurt coming out of the store, the ones people believed would eventually stretch and someday conform to their feet – to the detaching of people who they thought with a little prodding and coercion would also stretch, match, measure up, and play the necessary games to meet their specific needs and desires. Around the mountain, the people vowed to do more than the minimum, shatter complacency and embrace constructive action, meticulously challenge standards and tradition in pursuit of excellence, and intentionally set and meet goals once believed unattainable. Some got caught up in the intensity of the realities and pledges at these higher elevations and couldn’t make it any further, deciding instead to take a seat where they were, at least for a little while. Others kept hiking along gathering momentum from the less crowded altitudes.

At the next point, fatigue set in. Many on the mountain forgot to breathe through the thrashing that only such a steep and slippery mountain as this could offer; many others fell out of step, lost their hold of might, and slid back to the bottom. On the ground and discouraged, many of the people never looked up again or took another step toward the mountain; others remembered their previous course and quickly regained their footing. Others never lost their grip in the first place, steadily snaking doggedly through the uncertainties, fears, and slumps they faced on that mountain.

Some of those fears included failure and its repercussions; success and its requirements; the vulnerabilities attached to letting others get close; inadequacy and its stagnant nature; and the perceived finality of dying. If the people were ever to reach the top of the mountain, each of their fears must be examined, no matter the magnitude or significance of those apprehensions. This leg of the mountain was the hardest, many gave up at this point. Only a few remained. Those who stayed on course and worked through the pain of chiseling away doubt experienced in return freshness, reconciliation, and atonement with themselves that could only come from forgiving themselves for believing they at any time were small, inadequate, and incapable of moving on this mountain.

After many years – for a trek up a mountain of this size and scale very possibly requires the expedition of a lifetime – the people became stronger, bounding each new obstacle with grace and maturity only afforded by concerted mountain climbing, and getting closer and closer to that sought-after pinnacle. They’ve not all made it there yet, for the heavens are higher for some than others. But with each dig into the mountain, they are closer to it, better for it, and more alive with abundance because of it.

Sadiqqa © 2008

Life is a journey, not a destination... a process, a learning experience. We don’t discover all of life’s answers at once, but over time, through many and varied – and necessary – experiences. We will have hundreds of arrivals. And still we will not have reached life’s destination. As long as we are alive, we are in the process of becoming.
-- Susan Taylor

Everyday we are becoming. Through every experience, we are becoming. Wading through the mess, we are becoming. But becoming what, though?

Becoming more cynical because the experiences you had left you unconvinced that the world and its inhabitants are kind and mean well despite their shortcomings? Because of what’s taken place in your life, have you become more pessimistic and skeptical, believing the worst about people and situations until proven wrong, and even then doubting what you see is real? Certainly life’s multitude of journeys can make you cynical; it’s really no wonder so many of us are glum and doubtful about the future. But then, if that’s all you become, what else does that mean you are?

Living your life with distrust, skepticism, or even caution means you’re missing out on some other stuff. Perhaps you’re missing opportunities that help widen your outlook and accept each day with the potential it comes with. If you’ve become a doubting Thomas with a sharp tongue and sarcastic disposition, you’ve probably robbed yourself of opportunities to have real friends and close relationships because nobody wants to share space with a sourpuss or stick in the mud. And, chances are, if you’re a strict cynic, your body aches, your frown lines are deep, and the only light you get is that of the 60-watt bulb in the table lamp by the couch you are wedged to. What you’ve essentially become is a person whose doubt has built a cage or shell over them; one who can’t even feel the next step of the journey; and one who’s become so hard that nothing, not even air, can penetrate that shield. You’ve become stuck with no elbow room to receive anything fresh or gratifying, and everything that does come your way is more of the same and you’re being suffocated to death by your bitterness.

But that’s just one leg of your journey, just one place on your path, and not a place you have to stay attached to. If you choose, you can change and then begin to move toward a place that makes you more receptive, less tense, more inspired, and much gentler with yourself and the others around you. Of course this change from cynical to hopeful is a process that does not and cannot happen overnight. It’ll take staying attuned to who you’ve become and taking every chance to make dents in the shell that covers you. It’ll take patience, determination, and reliably conscious scraping of the tough calluses that have situated themselves subterraneously below the shell that fight tooth and nail to be smoothed. Changing your viewpoint from dark to light will take faith that wherever you arrive next will be a place of liberation and acceptance and that who you become in this process will get you even closer to who God said you were – a new and righteous creature who is heir to the throne and “marked with the seal of the promised Holy Spirit” (Ephesians 1:13). What greater place can you think of arriving? Who better to become?

If we choose, we’re becoming better than we were before no matter what the steps look like or how we’re feeling while we’re taking them. And if we think of our journey as a process of arrivals at becoming better, then none of it is actually that bad nor will it hurt you any longer.

Sadiqqa © 2008

There is more in us than we know. If we can be made to see it, perhaps, for the rest of our lives, we will be unwilling to settle for less.
--- Kurt Hahn

It’s like a hole inside, a gully, or groove. A hunger you can’t appease or an itch you can’t scratch. Something, some thing is missing. It’s untouchable. Unanswered. Unreachable. Out of sight. Presumably unrecoverable. Missing. And not even the right career, right fortune, right honey, or right fame can replace this thing that’s missing.

For the very life of you, you can’t put your finger on what the thing is or how to get at it.

Perhaps the thing was taken from you long ago before it had a chance to develop, and, somehow, there are remnants or torn tentacles left dangling inside and you can feel their disjointedness crying out to be reconnected. Perhaps the thing that has yet to be answered is buried so deep inside that its rising to the surface will take every matter and muscle you can gather. Perhaps you haven’t found the strength, gumption, support, or personal regard to uncover the thing. Nonetheless, that thing is missing and the feeling of emptiness won’t go away.

Maybe some psychologist has defined it. Perhaps there have been books written and studies conducted about the very thing you’re looking for. Maybe there’s a cure for it or medication so you won’t want the thing so much and you can just go about your everyday not even thinking about the hole that’s left unfilled.

But maybe the thing that you can’t seem to get fulfilled is the thing that causes one to live fearlessly, to exist outside a prescribed box, or to face obstacles bigger than life. Maybe the thing that you’re missing is what gives life it’s fullness and certainty, the thing that is better than anything you’ve ever done, heard, felt, tasted, seen, or needed.

And perhaps without a correct name or identification of the thing, we haphazardly search in vain for what we believe will fill us up. Perhaps we search our entire lives then, upon tiring, we settle for not fully getting it and simply take what only comes close. Or, perhaps we search for it, get close to it, never quite touch it, get discouraged or disappointed then hide, shut down, turn, or run away.

Or, maybe you know without discovery of the thing, you can’t be completely satisfied, and in order to have anything fulfilling in your life, you have to live just above the thing’s surface. And you know you can never stop to acknowledge the enormity and magnitude of the thing that’s missing for fear that its inability to be quenched will leave you with very little to sustain and hold you.

Maybe the thing is unconditional love, self-acceptance, or passion. Maybe it’s perfection. Or peace, happiness, safety, or security. Maybe it’s mad, passionate, extraordinary love that supersedes any love you’ve ever known.

Maybe you are so detached from your center that you only think you’re missing something.

Then again, maybe you really are.

Maybe the thing is only touched by Jesus who goes with us every step of our way and the reason our empty space isn’t filled is because we look to any thing but Jesus to fill it. Maybe Jesus already filled it and because we don’t know His true fullness, we’ve missed it and we’re looking for some thing altogether different.

Maybe you’ll find it if you retreat in the mountains or get quiet at the top of a hill. Maybe you’ll identify the thing by meditating or listening to your chakras. Maybe the thing never gets touched in this life and each time – or with each life – we’ll get closer and closer to the thing. Perhaps if you believe in an afterlife, there’s hope in this particular thought. If not, maybe you just settle for getting close.

Sadiqqa © 2008

If our children are to approve of themselves, they must see that we approve of ourselves. If we persist in self-disrespect and then ask our children to respect themselves, it is as if we break all their bones and then insist that they win Olympic gold medals for the hundred-yard dash.
-- Maya Angelou, Wouldn’t Take Nothing for My Journey Now

You are being watched. Every step you make is observed. Every word you say is noted. The way you treat others is stored for future reference, and the way you treat yourself is being registered inside the annals of a kid’s mind. Exactly what are you showing them?

Are you showing our children how to be the best steward of the lives they’ve been given by caring for your body, mind, and all the accoutrements around you that help to sustain your life? Do you eat a healthy breakfast and the right portions and servings? Do you exercise, drink water, and get fresh air? Do you stretch your mind to keep it in tip-top shape? Do you rest? Can you laugh at yourself and have fun by yourself? Do you cultivate healthy and long-lasting friendships? Are you able to give love and get love unconditionally and without manipulation? Is your home clean and free of clutter? Is your job interesting, challenging, and worth getting up for in the morning? Do you spend your money wisely, save for a rainy day, and pay your bills without falter?

Or, on the other hand, is the only way you watch your weight through a mirror? Do the foods you eat not resemble anything on the USDA food pyramid? Does your physical activity level only involve walking to the refrigerator then back to the couch?

Do you screen your phone calls and only answer if it’s not the bill collector, your family, or the job? Do you step over clothes and papers just to get to your bed? When you open your front door, does the smell of old trash knock you back out of the door?

Are you yelling and screaming every time you open your mouth? Are the words offensive and hateful when they fall from your lips? And when you do open your mouth, is the smell that comes forth foul and oppressive?

How’s your overall health? Are you getting regular check-ups? Are you taking your medication as prescribed? Do you smoke? Drink heavily? Practice unsafe sex? Do you even wear your seatbealt? Or, are you one of those who believe, “you’ve got to die from something?”

Now, mind you, each of us is guilty of something above; we’re not perfect. But are you able to check yourself, pull your reins, and clean up your act – all while allowing your children to see you do so? They know you’re not perfect – they watch you eat a bag of chips and can of dip then lie down on the couch for a nap. But they also need to see you make it right by watching you drink some water and do a few sit-ups.

Children are impressionable. They watch the way we live; they live through us. Our responsibility is to show them how to live the lives God gave us in the most responsible way. When we love, respect, and care for ourselves without reserve, we are a model for our children who learn to properly love, respect, and care for themselves. And when they know love and respect for themselves, you can believe they will do their best to create, advance, and improve all the things of this world.

Our babies are taking notes, putting on the garb, and practicing what they see. Prayerfully you’re providing a good lesson.

Sadiqqa © 2008

... what can I give you for the day when you realize you don’t know what you’re doing or where you’re going? A day that will come, as surely as the night follows the day. A day when you lost your way, your light, your joy, and maybe even yourself. A day, in fact, when all you have are questions, not one single answer, and these questions feel like a nest of snakes slithering back and forth through your brain. I give you reassurance.
-- Alice Walker

Reassurance by means of encouragement, encouragement that reminds you that your principle and purpose are larger than what you’re facing. Encouragement that lifts your dispiritedness and unhappiness and replaces them with resolve and an attitude of audacity to continue the path that lays before you. Encouragement that helps you to keep it all in perspective irrespective of the circumstances by which it all comes at you. Encouragement that urges you to keep your brilliant light shining even when those around you want to extinguish it.

Reassurance in the form of support, support that lets you know you’re not by yourself and don’t have to travel this journey by yourself. Support that assures that even when it’s too heavy, too ugly, or just too much, you don’t have to carry it alone nor do you have to figure it out by yourself. Support that allows you to lean on another without fear of rejection, burden, reproach, or betrayal. Support that promises whatever decision you make, you won’t lose this support, that you will still be championed for the exceptional person you are.

Reassurance through comfort, comfort in a hug, a cool drink, a hand to hold, and a shoulder made for your quiet tears and earnest thoughts. Comfort that soothes and eases and provides a balm over what aches to make it more tolerable and solvable. Comfort that strengthens your fortitude for the next leg of the journey, that sustains you as you go through.

Reassurance in the form of hope, hope that things become different, better, manageable, and that when they do, that same hope covers and marks you as you carry on the good fight.

Reassurance via the activation of faith, faith that you are okay and will make it past this situation. Faith that even though today may not be okay and that it may take more than a while for you to see a brighter day, the other side of this mountain is full of reward all because Jesus said if you believed in Him you could have the desires of your heart. Faith that will get you over that mountain because Jesus said your life was not meant for confusion and paid it all so that you could live your life more abundantly.

Sadiqqa © 2008

If you are having a bad day, get another one and get it quick!
-- Rissie Harris

The morning started out well. You got up with no hassles. You showered and doused yourself in your favorite body oil; you smell great. You dressed, found a small stain on your shirt but then got it off with a little bleach stick. You poured your Sumatra coffee into your favorite mug only to find that your mug was cracked which caused you to drip a little coffee on your shirt. No problem, the bleach stick is handy. Locking the door, you realize you’ve forgotten your wallet so you turn the lock to go back in and the key breaks. Looking down at the key, you realize you’re wearing one blue shoe and one black shoe. Then, even more suddenly, you notice that the spots on your shirt that you bleached away 15 minutes ago are now burning holes growing larger by the minute! So now the day that started with no aggravation has abruptly turned into a morning destined for hell. Quick! Exchange it for another day!

Well, yeah, you can’t physically throw yourself into another day of the week, but you can revamp the one you’re in now. How? Easy. Think something different, do something different, feel something different.

First, you gotta know, this isn’t the end of the world so don’t approach it as though this is the worst thing ever. Really, none of it is that deep. Stop what you’re doing, take a deep breath so you can clear your thinking and start over.

Sometimes the slightest thing can send our day over the edge. We fret about our clothes, hair, the traffic, something the radio personality said. We trip over what somebody at work said or get caught up on what they did. We complain that it’s too hot and that gas prices are too high. Okay maybe gas prices aren’t a “slight thing,” but what can you do?

You can think about it all differently. The fact that you have clothes, a job, a car to get you where you need to go, and at least a little money to buy the gas that’ll get you there are all blessings. But bigger than that, it’s just not that big of a deal. You have life. You have opportunities. You’re not stuck in one place, and you have more love in your life than you can count on your hands and toes. That’s the big deal.

So you broke the key; call the locksmith. When you get in, change your shirt and your shoes; don’t forget your wallet. Call the office and let them know you’ll be a few minutes late; if you need to, stay a little later. Shake it off, start it over.

It’s up to you to make your day better despite the things that make it ugly. Besides, whose time are you wasting staying in a bad day? Quick! Get a better day!

Sadiqqa © 2008

... growth demands risk taking.
Linda H. Hollies, A Daughter Survives Incest: A Retrospective Analysis

Gingerly she walked across the long dark stage toward the podium. She’d been contemplating this moment for many years, hashing over whether an opportunity like this would free her of the demons that caused disquiet, doubt, and confusion in her life. And, of what confusion she’d lived! The anxiety that controlled her life was stifling, deadening, particularly abusive. It’s a wonder, she thought, she even found the strength to walk across this stage.

She’d been invited to speak before a symposium of women, hurting women who’d been through everything from genital mutilation to painfully watching their babies being raped repeatedly. As she stood before the waiting eyes – eyes that shone betrayal, pain, anger, and emptiness – she searched her mind for the words, at least the first words to say about her own pain.

“Somebody hurt you. They let you down. And not only did they let you down, they got away with it.”

She saw the shift of shoulders and the nods of heads. She heard a few hisses and a couple of “Fuck hims.” She began to tell her story.

“For me, it was the sitter my mother trusted. The sitter who bound my little hands and legs as she poked and prodded my insides with any object – clean or unclean – she found appealing. The sitter who looked like me in color that held my mother’s kitchen knife to my little neck as she made me perform sex acts on her only meant for two consenting adults. The sitter whose status in life was no different than mine that said to me, a 7 year-old, that if I told anyone, she would deny it, put my name in the street as a hooker, and set my home on fire with my mama in it. The sitter who for 3 years after every episode would fix me a bologna and cheese sandwich then go smoke a cigarette on my front stoop.”

She continued. “Now, I know my situation pales in comparison to some of your life stories. Most of you have been through more than I can ever even imagine. But pain is pain, especially when it takes over your psyche and defines who you become, what you think of yourself, and what you do to yourself as a result. Don’t compare our stories, that’s not the point. Think about our common feelings and frame of mind.

“See, this woman took from my 7 year-old self a sense of innocence that I will never fully understand or ever recapture. At 8, she and my mother darkened my ability to trust as I tried in my young and simple way to throw hint after unsuccessful hint at my mother about what was happening to me only to feel each offensive act sanctioned every time my mother shut the front door on me and my sitter. At 9, I lost my ability to feel deeply or see myself as more than an object as I began to live outside of myself just to breathe and cope with what I could not tell a soul. And finally, at 10, no longer holding on to self-worth, I became the hooker the sitter had pronounced I was. At 10, I began a life of self-abuse and indulgence, and there was not a single thing anyone could do to me or use me for that I could feel. And the sitter got away with it because there was no other life I knew to live.”

She told that crowd of survivors how she’d covered herself in pain killers, illegal drugs, criminal acts, and sex with anyone – male or female. She told the sorrowful onlookers that disease been a regular resident in her body, and that her relationship with her mother and all women had been anything but pleasant and trustworthy. “I don’t even regard any of you as capable of being trusted,” she contended.

“But a flower can’t bloom unless it takes the risk of poking its head above ground. I come to you to tell you my story; to get these feelings out in the air for there’s healing in telling and naming your pain and power taken away from the pain when it’s spoken. I’m in need of reconciliation – with myself and with the others I’ve intentionally hurt and disregarded because I was hurt. I want to grow and live and experience life from a different place, one that is free of emotional bondage, shame, and humiliation. I want to know the real me, the me underneath all this filth and debris. I am exposing myself to you – women who don’t know me, women with histories more disparaging than mine, about a woman who betrayed the blossoming woman in me and stole what I can never get back or reclaim easily. I am blossoming now as I speak because the sitter is no longer getting away with it.

“I’m not sure if I’ve met the goals the symposium sponsors set by speaking to you in this way today; they will probably throw me out of the building when I walk off this stage. But I do know that after many, many years of assuming myself dead, I am a blossoming flower and I’m opening myself up to receive the sunshine. I know that today is about each of you butterflies taking some of my nectar and using it for your own sustenance and restoration. Take all that you can, all that you need, so that I can be refreshed and my experience can be useful. I’m still healing. I have a long way to travel. I’ve risked losing my life, and, with all that I have left within me, I now risk reclaiming it.”

With that, she stepped away from the podium, bowed, left the building, and lived.

Sadiqqa © 2008

Too often, we lose sight of life’s simple pleasures. Remember, when someone annoys you, it takes 42 muscles in your face to frown, but it only takes 4 muscles to extend your arm and smack the asshole upside the head.
-- Author Unknown

While violence is in no way promoted here in these pages of thoughtful content, it must be acknowledged that sometimes you just wanna slap the taste out of the mouth of the one who’s annoying you. Sometimes a swift kick in the assets will alleviate the irritation you feel at the person giving you grief and just one good punch in the lip will stop all that nonsense coming from that person’s mouth.

But if you hit, they may hit back. Then you have to defend yourself, just like they just did, and now what do you have? Grown people fighting! And you can guarantee that somebody standing around has a camera phone ready to upload your brawl onto YouTube.

But we’d never do any of that anyway. We’d never hit and kick or slap and punch, right? We’d always take the high road, the high road that says using all that physical energy is a waste of time, especially when you can just cuss them out!

So there you are, passionately spitting all kinds of expletives in the face of the bothersome one, maybe even using a creative and sophisticated diatribe of words and phrases to get your point across. Then, they in turn toss a few choice words your way, and, there again is the YouTuber recording your every word. What’s an angry person to do? Keep it all inside? They say that’ll kill you.

Think about the real energy you’re expending. If you’ve gotten so mad at someone that you’re driven to physical of verbal violence, imagine the physiological happenings in your body and brain. Your heart is beating fast to pump increased oxygen, adrenaline, and sugar into your bloodstream; your breathing increases, blood pressure rises, and your muscles tense. You’re not thinking clearly, your thoughts about others are irrational and only serve to increase your anger. And, you’re frowning. What could you really be doing with all that energy?

You could be doing anything that exacts that same level of intensity – exercising, teaching, swimming, or making passionate love. Any of these activities not only squelches that energy but also distracts you from that fool bothering you. But if you can’t divert your attention from the anger, acknowledge that you’re angry and why you’re really angry, then take deep breaths and count to 10, 20, 50 or 100 to calm down so that you can more effectively deal with the situation. By all means let that nut know you’re angry. Don’t hold it in, that’s the cause of cardiovascular problems and heart attacks. Instead, tell the person that you’re angry, or hurt, disappointed, disrespected, whatever. Just tell it.

Although it’s always tempting to knock out the culprit of your exasperation, holding on to that much anger is self-defeating and destructive. Get it off your mind, walk away, and keep your hands to yourself.

Sadiqqa © 2008

I have loved and been loved by others. But it was not the right time. Right man, wrong time: wrong man, right time – until now, that was the story of my life. And now, finally, the right man at the right time. For sure, even with the right person it will be a struggle.
-- Renita J. Weems, Listening for God

When the person of your dreams – the knight in shining armor or the other half of your rib –sweeps into your life, you may feel you’re already walking around heaven in garments of silk and slippers of gold. You feel healthy, whole, and liberated; your outlook is glossy, your future is bright. No task is insurmountable and you are the person God created you to be. When the person you’ve felt breathing your name and singing your spirit’s ancient song finally takes form, everything in your life begins to find order and it all makes sense. “Thank you God! At last it’s right!” you proclaim from the highest mountain.

What a beautiful thing – especially if you can keep all that beauty in the front of you as you begin to deal with the stuff in relationships that’s not always so grand.

See, this magnificently perfect person that has suddenly and blessedly danced into your life comes with a separate mind and sense about life. He or she comes with history and experiences, and, sometimes, your honey comes with overflowing and potentially disruptive baggage that they’ve carried around for years. If you don’t approach and take in hand these certainties with honesty, care, coherency, and intentionality, your beautiful thing could turn ugly and the right person at the right time could slip away.

Needless to say, you and your honey have some differences that on occasion create misunderstandings or uncomfortable moments. You may not see eye-to-eye about a thing, and you may be altogether different in the way you approach finding a solution to the problems you face. In any given situation, you may want to retreat to your familiar and easier to navigate solo space, running back to the comfort of your cocoon and zipping the door shut so that nothing about your honey can even penetrate your casing. But the right honey at the right time won’t let you stay away and will sensitively and patiently unwrap the layers and handle your newness with grace because she needs you for air and you in turn need her for life.

Your honey may be a planner, a strategist, a blueprint follower; the greatest Bonaparte since Bonaparte. But you, on the other hand, shoot at a target by the notion of the moment and the seat of your pants. Honey may hastily spend his last dollar; you, by contrast, may still have your very first dollar. Your honey-love may beat around the bush to make her point; you, instead, are a straight shooter – no ifs, ands, buts, stutters, you knows, or long thoughts to make your point. Now, you and your right time honey can submissively and unconditionally decide to ignore the variances, calling them mere idiosyncrasies not worthy of discussion or examination – in which case, you can’t later heatedly declare the differences in behavior and practice work your nerves since you quietly accepted their existence on the front end. Or, you can lovingly dissect the differences, turning them over this way and that way to look at them and find the common thread or middle ground that helps you reach shared goals. If you and honey-love can work through the distinctions, respect the experiences by which those distinctions were created, and fix your individual Selves for what those differences require of both of you, then you’ve conquered a third of your battle, and the rest of the time can be spent jointly pouring through the baggage that spilled all over the place while you were merging lifestyle differences.

If you’re not careful, all that stuff you’ve been dragging behind you – you know, the stuff you’ve ignored and left unexamined that has ruled your interactions with every single body you’ve come in contact with over the years – can get in the way of your right time. Sometimes your right honey has to wade through so much muck that it becomes difficult for him or her to see what’s ahead and make conscientious decisions about how best to love you. Sometimes getting past the chaos, confusion, and unrest is so much work that it is actually easier to just be your friend, or a passing acquaintance. But if you will deliberately and unashamedly do the work of digging through and throwing away for good what’s been ailing you – no matter how badly it hurts to uncover and contend with, you give yourself and your honey a fair chance at making good love last. And because this is the right time and you truly trust your right honey with you, you don’t have to do the emotional work alone.

Nothing good is ever easy, even the righteous occurrences take work. Nor are good things created and maintained overnight; they must be kneaded and seasoned each day. The point is to do the work and stay present; to ask questions and lovingly receive the answers; to stretch yourself, open wide, and feel. Yeah, that’s work, but it’s worth the struggle just to have the opportunity to love and be loved in the way you’ve waited for your whole life. This is the right time to love wholeheartedly and unreservedly, and this time, the for real time, this is the right person to do that with.

Sadiqqa (c) 2008

I’m not perfect, but I am strong.
-- “Robin” from the movie, “The Best Man”

No matter how hard we try, how long we live, or how much we pray, none of us will ever hit the mark of perfection. We just weren’t created that way.

On any given day – mind you, one of God’s perfect days – you may leave the house sparkling clean, smelling fresh, and looking good. Your skin is clear, your body is toned, and nothing jiggles when you walk – at least nothing that isn’t supposed to. But somewhere there’s a flaw, a defect that keeps you out of the faultless circle. Maybe it’s that though you are radiantly clean and good-looking, you don’t have a damn dime in the bank because you erroneously manage your money in your head instead of on a balance sheet, knowing full well that your calculations are piss-poor because you have a documented learning disability in math computation. Or maybe, though so fresh and so clean, when you open your mouth, nothing of substance, common sense, or lucidity is heard from your lips because you’ve not taken time to invest in expanding your mind or reaching beyond the box you sit in. You simply stay put out of fear that learning something new will cause you to have to work harder and hard work is too much for you to manage given you have that learning disability in getting ahead. So thank God we weren’t created to be perfect, huh?

But God created us in His perfect image, and while we can never be perfect, we can try to get as close to just right as possible. And through our enduring strength, courage, tenacity, and integrity – minus the habitual excuses – each day, we’ll get closer and closer to that mark. That is the expectation.

At least some of us have strength and sense enough to know that we’re not perfect; you know you’re assets ain’t right. Some of us even have strength and sense enough to know what would make us perfect; you know you can’t talk worth a quarter, so you keep a thesaurus in your back pocket at all times and pull it out even if it makes you look slow. And, when it comes down to it, it’s the strength of strength and sense that makes reaching for perfection all the more worthwhile. You get better while you’re trying.

That’s why people go back to school or take up a new hobby – it keeps the brain stimulated. You may not learn everything about a subject or become the best crocheter, golfer, or potter, but your brain is expanding, the circuits and connections in your head are rearranging and, in some cases, repairing their pathways with each new thing you try and each old thing you do away with. This brain expansion – or rewiring, if you will – is what pushes us toward perfection. Think about everything you’ve learned and experienced during the stretching toward the mark. You’re getting better! Stronger!

So, possibly the reward is in realizing and exercising your strength. If that’s the case, then, who wants to be perfect anyway? Thank God we weren’t created perfect. We’d miss the journey to stronger.

Sadiqqa © 2008

I met God in the morning when my day was at its best and His presence came like sunrise, like a glory in my breast. All day long the presence lingered, all day long God stayed with me and we sailed in perfect calmness on a very troubled sea. So I think I know the secret learned from many a troubled way: you must seek God in the morning, if you want Him through the day.
-- Cardinal Ralph S. Cushman

They say that between the hours of 3:00 and 5:00am, everything in the universe is right and at peace. They say that those quiet hours are consecrated and entrancing, that God is breathing air over all His creation and touching each of us in the places we need Him. They say that if you seek God during these very precious hours of the early morning, He lovingly seeps through you, filling every cell and tissue with needed oxygen and nutrients, pouring healing into every cleft and crevice left exposed from the previous day, and recalibrating your center so that you are full of His light. Seeking the divine presence of God at 3:00am provides the jolt necessary for the next 24 hours.

However, if you’re like most of us, at 3:00am you’re sleeping... hard, and nothing but the screech of the alarm will wake you. And on some days, even the alarm becomes a part of your dreams – is that the fire alarm going off in the 160-story building I just jumped from, or is that the hoot of the owl that caught me in mid-air and now we’re flying over the flaming Pacific headed toward 160 Owl Island?

But if you could somehow take advantage of this hallowed time, perhaps asking God to wake you at 3:00am so that you can spend quiet time with Him, soliciting His wake-up call before you go to bed, just maybe at 3:00am you will hear His call.

Maybe it’ll be a bird chirping near your window who, not so long before you, received her call to convene with the Master. Or maybe it’s a dog softly howling because it feels the sweet spirit of the One who comes to soothe and still. Perhaps it’ll be a bump in the night, like a book falling from a shelf, a book whose pages have held something for you to reflect on. Or, maybe your partner will breathe or shift differently, enough so that you hear the voice that says, “I’m here.”

However you are awakened to delight in those sacred hours, the blessings, power, and encouragement you receive will clothe you for the rest of your day. And who knows, you’ll probably have enough for the others of us who rode the owl on into the Pacific.

Sadiqqa © 2008

There are moments when even the strongest woman can appreciate the reinforcement of a man who is comfortable with who he is and who can be her anchor in the storms of life. He will be the warm hand touching the small of her back, giving her the stability to go forward. He will give her the feeling of uncompromising love as she faces the various ages and stages of life. He gives her body release, her mind a melody, and her spirit a gust of wind that makes her able to soar. When the lady has a lover, her eyes sparkle, her smile is bright, and her voice is calm and passionate. With her lover at her side, her heart is peaceful, for she feels secure and can close her eyes and rest her head on his shoulder.
-- T. D. Jakes, The Lady, Her Lover, and Her Lord

Even the most emotionally resilient woman can be moved by a compassionate, responsive, tender, sensual, and adoring man. Even the most exceptional lady, one who is capable of moving mountains with the stroke of her pinkie finger and scaling imposing, formidable buildings in a single bound, can have her breath taken away by a man who knows and tells who he is, Who’s he is, what he has to offer, and actually offers it. Even a bona fide warriorette, adorned in magic girdles, spears and shields, an army of Sister Amazons, and a fantastic sense of Self, can be gentle, float lightly above ground, laugh at her clumsiness, and calmly lose 2 or 3 of her marbles when a man gives her everything and more of what she’s ever imagined she needed.

That is, if she actually lets him.

Sometimes our sense of strength simply won’t allow a man to give what he has or even love us at all. Sometimes this strength – you know, the strength often born of practicality and survival, or that chaotically created from indifference and cynicism, or even strength deliberately erected from the fear of abandonment, failure, and demise – that strength gets in the way of us getting the love we desire and deserve. Even if the man before us is the one we’ve waited our entire life for, “strength” can cause us to miss him because we rear back on our hinds and ballyhoo the glories of that superimposed strength.

Now, certainly strength is a necessary tool for navigating the life we’ve been given. One must have strength of mind, heart, and body in order to stay on the path and negotiate with those who cross our paths. Even strength created for self-preservation is essential when faced with the world as we know it. But when your “strength” causes you to swat the white butterflies that’ve come in search of your sweet innate nectar and thump away the ladybugs who keep away the busy and nasty pests who can tear down your sanctuary, perhaps that sense of strength is futile and needs an overhaul.

So how does one overhaul or abandon years and layers of “strength?” How does an Amazon woman shed her shields and trust a chivalrous warrior king to take her spicy hands and place in them the good stuff he wants to leave there? Is it even possible given all she’s seen and knows?

It’s possible if she realizes the man before her has no desire to depose or, in any way, extinguish her true strength – character that makes her courageous, passionate, and determined; a spiritedness that keeps her dynamic, a bit eccentric, and in love with life’s possibilities; and simplicity that keeps her fresh, open, and receptive – all visible as the layers come off. It’s possible when she realizes he wants nothing more than to make her happy just because she’s beautiful happy. It’s possible to let go of the vain forts of strength when she realizes that in order for him to be who she needs, she must let him be who he is, a man who wants to love her and will go to the threshing floor with her to shed what is no longer necessary so that her thriving of yesterday can become living from now on.

That is, if she actually lets herself.

Sadiqqa © 2008

In order to succeed, people need a sense of self-efficacy, struggle together with resilience to meet the inevitable obstacles and inequities of life.
-- Albert Bandura

So where does this sense of self-efficacy come from? And how does one become resilient? Through managing obstacles and inequities? Well, how does one learn to do this?

Okay, so here’s a little Psychology 101. Bandura, one of the big giants of psychology – you know, the guy who studied the aggressive kid who beat the hell outta the Bobo doll – believed that self-efficacy, or one’s belief in his abilities to handle situations that affect life, is developed via modeling, experience, and encouragement, that one’s belief in Self is strengthened when consistently exposed to these occurrences, and the absence of dependable events ultimately leads one to have a fragile sense of self-efficacy and human agency.

Further, Bandura asserted that when a person overwhelmed by doubts about their capabilities is faced with challenges, he is more likely to give up and settle for mediocrity, whereas a person who believes in and trusts his abilities will put forth greater effort to beat down the challenge.

So, in order to succeed in life – to trust oneself, not give up, and settle for the okey doke – one has to see, do, and hear/feel success, and, through human or personal agency, be motivated to act on what he’s seen, done, and heard/felt. If he adds to that the ability to bounce back, recover, and learn from botched attempts at success, perhaps success is a mere right waiting to be obtained.

Oh but it were that easy.

It’s more than a notion, this self-efficacy thing. For some of us, self-efficacy is a luxury. Living year after year and generation after generation in poverty and deprivation sometimes makes it difficult to consciously conceive and act upon the belief that rising above such circumstances is possible. Trusting your ability to make sound and safety decisions while being beaten within an inch of your life each night by another whose sense of self-efficacy is diminished is possibly improbable especially since it’s happened for 10 years at the drop of a dime. And, it’s possible that your baby boy feels the same sense of mistrust of himself as he tries to master third grade standards and middle class behavior in a No Child Left Behind environment. A lack of self-efficacy begets more lack of self-efficacy and the inability to make responsible choices and decisions.

Even for those of us whose circumstances are not as bleak, self-efficacy can be fleeting or fractional. Perhaps you are highly competent on your job. You’ve received all kinds of commendations and accolades for the work that you do, and you’re regarded as one of the best in your field. But at home, baby, you suck. You can’t keep your house in order, your marriage is in shambles, and your kids are the worst on the block. It could be that maybe you’ve never seen a model of how to effectively manage a home, marriage, or children; your experience with these entities is so limited; and you’ve yet to receive a pat on the back for even trying to keep it all together that you don’t even have the wherewithal to try to keep it together and make it different.

The point is in order for a person or community to be successful, to rise above current circumstances, see beyond the moment, and live life to the fullest, self-efficacy must be operational. Each of us has to believe in our capacity to face and conquer life’s obstacles. We have to look at where we are, marvel at how we got here on the bones and scraps we were thrown, and remind ourselves of the toils that we as individuals and a community of people overcame to see this day. We made it on sheer grit, and if we can remember the grind of our ancestors (the models), the lessons we learned along this path (the experiences), and the blessings of God to see a new day (the encouragement), we’re well on our way to receiving the right of success for ourselves, our children and the community.

Sadiqqa © 2008

When you want to believe in something, you also have to believe in everything that’s necessary for believing in it.
-- Ugo Betti, Struggle Till Dawn

If you believe that today will be a good day, you have to believe in your ability to make it the best. You have to believe that others will do their best to make it a good day, and you have to believe that everything in the world is working at its best and doing its part to make it a good day. You have to believe all of this in order to believe it’s going to be a good day.

Tall order? Probably. Unless you can control everybody or everything else in the day. But, geez, who really wants to do that?

What you can control, maneuver, and believe in is you and your abilities to make this day what you want it to be. You can control your first thoughts of the day; hopefully they’re prayers for the people and the world around you. You can control how you leave your home – orderly, full from a wholesome breakfast, loved and kissed on, secure, and eager to return to its comfort. If you can do these things, you can believe when you first hit the public, your day will be a good one.

You can believe your day will be a good one if you can remain calm and even-tempered in morning traffic, especially if you take time to notice the tulips and blossoming trees along your route that have sustained themselves amid precocious weather. Your day will be a good one, if, when you finally make it to the office, you can steer clear of office gossip and idle banter that seeks to usurp your energy, power, and competence while still being a teamplayer who is professionally cooperative and good-natured. Even if others try to stick it to you, beat you to the punch, or pull the rug from under you, if you gave the day, your work, and others your best and most sincere effort and attention, you can believe the day will have been a good one.

If at the end of the day, you can say that you helped someone, that you made a difference for somebody, that you panted a seed for tomorrow, and your head and heart are clear and unfettered, you can know without a doubt that today was a good one. And, frankly, that’s enough. That’s plenty.

You are the key to making it work for yourself, the key to making this day the best it can be. It doesn’t have to involve any one else but you. Of course it would be nice if others fell in line and did what you needed them to do. That would certainly make for a perfect day. But that doesn’t always happen if it happens at all. Really, it’s all about your action and response to the day and the day’s participants and that’s all you can control.

If no one else does their part to make this a good day, you’ve still got and will always have you to make it the best. And that’s something to believe in.

Sadiqqa © 2008

If someone else has done it, you can too.
-- Cynthia Copeland Lewis, “Really Important Stuff My Kids Have Taught Me”

And even if nobody’s done it, you can do it. Why not?

Have you ever lay in bed at night and thought up a solution to a problem, you know, some problem that all of us have? Like if your car alarm goes off and you’re inside the mall or somewhere crowded, how would you know unless your key vibrated or made a sound to let you know there was trouble at your car? Or maybe you have the tried-and-true answer to no weep onion cutting and it has something to do with citronella, glycerin, Vodka, and baby diapers. Or, perhaps you’ve figured out how to leave no child behind by simply using hard work, neighborhood schools, and a paddle. Oh wait, that’s not new, that’s old school.

But maybe you have a new take on an old thing, like Chrysler did with its throwback PT Cruiser. Maybe the old thing just needs new energy, like putting the spice and sauce back into a staid marriage. Or maybe you’ve thought to brilliantly repurpose a thing, like the emerald green damask Martha Stewart Collection tablecloth you use as a shower curtain because it perfectly matches the tile in your bathroom or making cloth grocery bags from old family reunion t-shirts.

Maybe you’ve come up with an expansion to something old, like McDonalds did when it added gourmet coffee to its menu to attract a different customer. Or you can upgrade or replace an idea, like Adobe Acrobat does every 20 minutes. Or you can buy out, take over, and give a thing a new name, like J.P. Morgan did with Bear Stearns.

Or maybe you want to do the thing that’s already been done, you just want to leave your mark. Maybe you’d like to put on another production of “Dreamgirls” that is just like the original version except this time you’re the producer. Maybe you too want to record a version of “The Christmas Song,” only this time it’s your voice on the CD. That’s okay because your mark is your own; nobody will touch the thing in quite the way you’ve touched it.

Whatever you do, if you can think it, you can do it, and DON’T let anyone tell you otherwise. Do it big; do it new; do it small; do it the same. Whatever, it’s there for you to do.

Sadiqqa © 2008

We must accept finite disappointment, but we must never lose infinite hope.
-- The Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

There’s a lot of talk these days about hope; it’s the new buzz word for some. Of course most of us have been hoping all of our lives – hoping the to make ends meet, or better yet, get rich; hoping we’d be and stay well; hoping to meet the man or woman of our dreams; hoping our children will have more to their names than we do. If you think about it, we live our lives on hope, getting up each morning on the optimism of hope.

But is there a time when hope dies, when it’s no longer alive? Is there a time when we’ve given in and given up on hope, no longer holding out hope that things will change or a better day will come? Are there days when we’ve only regarded hope as a four-letter word and one in which we’d be foolish to bank? Has there been a time for you when hope was defeated and unrecoverable?

If there was that time you let go of hope and you believed nothing about its possibilities, certainly you felt hollow, raw, and done. Certainly the world around you lost its color, faded to grey, and what was once bright became like a 1950’s black and white Polaroid. When you lost hope, simply set it down to flicker out for the obvious, the easy, and the right now, you felt your narrow box become just that – a box, nothing more, nothing less, just a nondescript cell of dullness, mediocrity, and predictability. Hope was gone, and all you had was where you were.

It’s not easy to give up hope. There’s something that runs through our blood that keeps hope from fading. Perhaps God placed it there and it was triggered and motivated by our foreparents who unconsciously rouse us to keep its embers burning.

What if your grandmother had given up hope, if she’d stopped praying and persevering for things to change, to be different and better even in the face of the impractical? Would her life, your parents life and your life have moved forward? Her hope was not limited by moments and periods of struggle and uncertainty; her hope was not in vain; and her hope had the punch of a world champion boxer. It must have because you’re here.

To give up hoping is to stop breathing. To no longer wish for or believe in possibilities and opportunities is like water hitting the dam wall. It stops and goes backwards, mixing with other water and becoming backwash. Without hope, there’s no movement, no newness or air or life. All you have is stagnation surrounded by dust and whatever else is left when dreams and desire fade away.

Thank God hope is alive, and even though recent politics has made it a household word, or at least a word you can say outside the home and not be looked upon as a fantasist, we know. We know hope’s been around, gone, and come back several times. We know how to hope and dream and believe. We know how to hope even when the outcome seems unrealistic. For hope is what we do, hope is who we are, and hope will keep us moving toward what is good and right. Hope is what keeps us alive and living.

Sadiqqa © 2008

The moon could not go on shining if it paid attention to all the little dogs that barked at it.
--- Celinda Bowlds

Them people – yes, them people – at your job are giving you holy crap. No wait, there ain’t nothin’ at all holy about what they’re doing; them people givin’ you hell! They pile on more work, discount your efforts, and have never once stopped to see that it’s you who make the wheels of the organization turn. You find yourself taking work home; working extra hard on the weekends to stay ahead of the game; and feel so much pressure, you think before long, you’re going to blow – and that will not be pretty for anybody! On top of all that, you get an itty bitty check at the end of the month!

The flip side is – no matter how much it all sucks – you are THE bomb at what you do! You love what you do so much that you do it with excellence. Your work is quality; your work habits are enviable and should be emulated. The precision with which you do your job is stellar and no one even comes close to making it happen in the way you do.

And that’s the problem. The way in which you do your work scares the hell out of the people around you who can see that you do better work than them. They don’t want to be outdone because it means you may rise to higher ranks. They will do, say, and play any stupid and hackneyed game possible to see to it that doesn’t happen. And we know good and well why they don’t they want you to rise. Yep, it’s the same old tired song we’ve endured since who knows when; you’re parents and their parents went through it, too. That same old dirge – their inherent, inherited beliefs about who you are, some ol’ itshay planted in ‘em that said you were never supposed to rise higher or have more than them. So, in this day and age they pull that old subtle game of laying more on you and, thinking they way they do about you, they think you’ll buckle.

You ain’t never buckled before have you? You made it this far by being unconquerable, unwavering, and formidable. Why on earth are they able to push you now? Hell, push ‘em back!

The trick is not to let them bark louder than your work. Ever. Anywhere. Whether you decide to stay where you are or leave for a newer place, never let ‘em take your shine ‘cause you are supreme at what you do. There’ll be dogs everywhere, even if you do what you do entrepreneurially. Some of the bitc- oops, dogs may do more than howl, some may bite and be rabid and cause you to have to cuss they assets out or sue them for all they got. Get you a good lawyer.

You are a champion at what you do. Never forget that and keep on getting better. Eventually the dogs will get tired of all that damn noise, or at least accustomed to the fact that the orange moon shines. Maybe they’ll sit their assets down and move on to something they can do something about. Until them – and hopefully we won’t have to wait for the next lifetime – make it do what it do, baby.

Sadiqqa © 2008

No, Patrick, you’re not unattractive. Your breath just stinks.
‑‑ Spongebob Squarepants

Everywhere you look, people around you are paired up and partnered off. They’re married, dating, or otherwise casually acquainting themselves with one another. You, on the other hand, are single with no prospects, and, dare it be said, lonely for acceptable, intelligent conversation and companionship. You’ve taken a long look at yourself and measured your surroundings. You’ve found everything in good, no, fine order, but you cannot for the life of you figure out why on earth you aren’t married, dating, or otherwise casually acquainted.

Maybe your breath stinks.

Maybe it doesn’t.

Maybe your expectations are too high. Perhaps you desire someone who is as fine as Morris Chestnutt or Angela Bassett; who’s got the riches and financial savvy of Oprah Winfrey or Ted Turner; and who is as svelte as Terrell Owens or Serena Williams. Maybe your aim isn’t as high as that but you do require a good-looking, independent, and healthy suitor. Perhaps you’d like for that person to make you laugh; help you feel at ease; support your dreams and ambitions; love Jesus, your family, and your dog; have a sexual appetite and sensualness that matches yours; and can cook and clean up after him or herself without having to be reminded to do so. Certainly that’s not too much to want. Is it?

Maybe you’re not looking in the right places. Sister, maybe church is not the place. It’s too full of women – that is, if you’re seeking a man. Brother, maybe there’re too many women at church for you to choose from; it seems all of them are hungry. Uh, that is, if you’re looking for a woman. Maybe looking back into your repertoire of past mates seemed like a good idea at one time, but when you did, you remembered why you left them in the past. The club? Who can talk and get to know someone over the latest Young Jeezy, Soulja Boy, or T-Pain cut? The gym? Maybe. You’ll at least be more fit. The coffee shop? Perhaps, just don’t overdose on caffeine. The car wash? You may meet the likes of Franklyn Ajaye or Marlene the Hooker – the chick you thought was Rose Royce.

Maybe you’re too perfect – or at least you give off the appearance of perfection. For the most part, you’ve got it together. You may have a few loose screws, but at least you know they’re loose AND you have the tools to tighten them if you really wanted to. You don’t necessarily require perfection in your mate, only that he or she bring to the table the same thing you do. Among other things, you’re fully capable of caring for yourself – your person, your family, and your home; making your own ends meet; achieving great satisfaction with your career; and finding peace in the most contrary of places. If that makes perfection, so be it. And if being damn near perfect is the problem, damn the problem. You can’t be any less than your best.

Maybe there is no answer. It just is what it is. And certainly that’s unsettling. But you can rest assured that perhaps it’s not you. Jesus just has a bigger plan for you. So, in the meantime, enjoy your Self, enjoy life, stock up on some breath mints, and never give up on what you’re looking for.

Sadiqqa © 2008

The object of preaching is to constantly remind mankind of what they keep forgetting; not to supply the intellect, but to fortify the feebleness of human resolutions.
-- Sidney Smith

Rev. Wright was right – a cab probably never “whizzed past” Hillary because of her race; rich white people don’t walk around thinking about poor black people; and Guilliani nor Hillary have ever been called niggars.

On Sunday mornings, in black churches across this nation, our discourse has much to do with our current corporate situations. It’s a fact that black people in this country suffer profusely in comparison to white people. At church we talk about the fact that black people often lack of access to quality health care. Pastors talk about police brutality and corruption against Africans Americans and the racial profiling and societal stereotyping that run rampant in our community. Preachers preach on how many black communities are in poor repair and have been subjected to subprime mortgages that have stripped us of our homes – the only asset many of us had. Ministers talk about the more than one million African American men currently in jail or prison which leads America to the perception that young, black men are prone to thievery, violence, and other criminal behavior, and how, in comparison to whites, blacks are more likely to receive substandard legal representation and harsher sentences. That’s what we talk about.

Black churches, the place where you can communally receive the balm of Jesus, have always been the bastion for vital community discussion. Black free-thinking pastors, brave enough to speak their minds and hearts, have always been the purveyors of Jesus’ healing and restoration, and we generally hold them in high esteem for their courage and audacity to speak aloud our position. Who is America to chastise the messengers of our relief?

Not long ago, someone said that the beauty of an Obama campaign and subsequent presidency was that America would get to view another perspective, a perspective that has long been denied, ignored, or diminished. Last week all of America got a perspective they had not been willing to see – that black folk have an opinion about our treatment and we take it to Jesus in the way it feels to us.

Who among us has not sat in church and heard the pastor profess something disparaging about American philosophy, practices, and leadership? Who among us has not heard the preacher “whoop” out a thing or two about social injustices and attached names to the offenders? Suffice it to say, given America’s beleaguered history, how many African American preachers have not talked about the “chickens coming home to roost?” Whether you agree with the message or not, you understand the sentiment and viewpoint with which these statements are delivered.

Talking about what hurts, shames, and demeans us in a safe place like church has been the tradition since we came to this country. When we go to meetin’, we hear about God’s grace through the tribulations of our life. We hear about how Jesus walks with us as we walk into our glass-ceilinged work places. God steers our wheels, bridles our tongue, and soothes our angry soul when we get pulled over because we were driving while black on the wrong side of town. Jesus eases our dismay and organizes our fight when greedy developers infringe on our 40-year old established-for-black-people communities with new, yet substandard or priced out of our range homes. And Jesus pushes us through to the next level when all stops are pulled to dirty our work and discount our accomplishments. Black churches and their pastors, in no uncertain terms, remind us, with tongues as sharp and versed as poets, that our struggles are real, the personal is political, and that we’ve got much work to do so stay alert and keep focused on God. All that is is the truth.

Possibly, Rev. Wright’s sermons reminded America that it cannot tolerate the truth, that truth points fingers and requires that one be conscious of and accountable for change, that perhaps paying attention to the pained emotion beneath words requires one to act and think differently which ultimately means one has to do the hard emotional work of uprooting, repudiating, and redefining how he or she thinks and behaves. Perhaps Obama, by association, is now thrown on the trash heap with the likes of other truth tellers like Al Sharpton and Dick Gregory and cannot recover from this slam. Perhaps America just does not want to think and be reminded, but instead wants to be alarmed that anyone would believe America is not the land of the free and the home of the brave.

Sadiqqa © 2008

I love to read and I want my children to be fluent readers and lovers of books...
-- Peg

So how do we get kids to read?

Read with them!

That’s right. Put aside Zane, Dickey, Monroe, and Morrison and pick up a kids book by Laura Numeroff, Ezra Jack Keats, Karen Beaumont, Joanna Cole, and, of course, J. K. Rowling.

Really, when was the last time you read a Dr. Seuss book and actually heard a Who beckoning? Have you read about Eric Carle’s hungry caterpillar’s big-a appetite? What about his grouchy ladybug’s bad days or mixed-up chameleon’s search for self-acceptance? Have you ever read The Three Pigs and compared them to your life? Have you ever taken a picture walk through a book, letting the pictures tell the story, making predictions about the outcomes in the story, then being pleasantly surprised when the story turns out exactly the way you predicted? Never?! Well then you’ve never read a book with a kid! How do you expect a kid to read if you’ve never read a book with him?

If you’ve never read a book with a kid, you’ve not become acquainted with Junie B. Jones (Barbara Park), the 6-year-old princess of shameless behavior, who takes on a life of her own as you read cringingly through her grammatical errors and sassy backtalk. What a great opportunity to teach a kid to learn the proper way to talk! And you probably know not of niño gatito Skippyjon Jones (Judy Schachner) and his many Chihuahua amigos, Los Chimichangos, whose travels are as brilliant and exciting to your imagination as they are to a kid’s. And reading el Skippito’s spirited adventures can make you sound just like an adulto Speedy Gonzales! ¡Ándale! ¡Ándale! ¡Arriba! ¡Arriba!

Of course if you’ve never read with a child, you’ve probably never tried to turn down Mo William’s pigeon’s attempts to drive the bus or stay up late. And you’ve probably never figured out how dinosaurs eat their food, say goodnight, clean their rooms, or play with their friends (Jane Yolen). If you’ve never read with a child you have no idea where the wild things are (Maurice Sendak), why mosquitoes buzz in people’s ears (Verna Aardema), or how Chrysanthemum (Kevin Henkes) solved the problem of her name. If you’ve never read with a kid, you’ve never had the chance to creatively drive home some great big point about fine living and even greater character message while making up funny voices and faces to fit each character in a book.

You may remember Judy Blume’s Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing or Beverly Cleary’s Ramona from your days as a kid. They’re still popular; read them with a kid. Kids will probably turn you on to Jeff Kinney’s Diary of a Wimpy Kid or Mary Pope Osborne’s Magic Tree House Series where adventure and history mesh. You may even get pulled into the Spiderwick Chronicles, tales of elves and trolls and goblins, if you like that kind of stuff. Better yet, you may want to find out what girls and boys really want to know by reading The Big Book of Girl Stuff, which’ll teach you how to make friendship bracelets, handle crushes, and have the perfect sleepover, and The Big Book of Boy Stuff where you’ll get solid info about playing practical jokes, getting beans out of your nose, and figuring out what that smell is.

Reg Weaver, President of the National Education Association, said “you’re never too wacky or wild to pick up a book and read to a child.” Reading with a kid is your chance to be as free and foolish as you wish, and there are a busload of books and babies whose paths need to cross. Reading increases a child’s literacy skills and gives you an opportunity to escape the reality of your everyday business. So, if you want a kid to read, for just a little while – 30 minutes a day max – with your own child or a borrowed one, read with them and they’ll quickly pick up the habit.

Sadiqqa © 2008

The troubles that chase you away also show you the road.
-- Kigezi proverb

Taking a deep and frustrated breath, she slowly placed the key in the lock. She could imagine what was on the other side. It would be dark, probably cold, and there’d probably be a smell. She had no idea how long it’d been that way on the other side of the door, but she knew once she walked inside, things were going to require her attention.

As she stood there, she tried to calculate how things had come to this. She knew she’d been neglectful, sometimes flippant about making sure the edges of her life weren’t frayed, at least not so frayed that others could see them that way. Did others see, she wondered. Could they tell it was all a bit out of control? Somewhat overwhelming? She looked around at her neighbor’s homes to notice if anyone else could have possibly been in her predicament. She looked even closer to see whether they could be peeking at her through closed blinds and drawn curtains. She noticed no one.

What she did notice though was the tug of her coat and her little one’s voice saying over and over, “mama, gotta go pot!” She imagined her baby boy “going to pot” right there on their porch in his undies. She also imagined stepping inside, in the dark, wading her way through the morning’s left over rush, and quickly getting him to the bathroom. But unlocking the door and stepping over this threshold was too much reality for her right now. So, weighing her options, she yelled at baby boy, “just go pot then!”

And hearing him cry from her yell didn’t make this any easier. She sighed, leaned against the door, watched his confused and contorted face, and slowly began to let out a few sobs of her own. “God,” she asked, “what is it you want me to know right now? What is it you want me to do? Here I am. I’m listening.” She took a seat on the cold, cement steps and listened through the night’s wind.

She heard the wind chimes, a plane overhead. She heard the millions of thoughts whirling in her head. She heard herself breathing and her heart beating.

She felt the cool breeze on her neck, the cold of the cement on her bottom. She felt baby boy’s confusion, his wonder at not going inside, and his fear of asking the questions. She reached for his little hand and pulled him to her, feeling him ease into her as he always did.

In the peacefulness of that moment, listening to the wind and rubbing her baby’s hand, it all became clearer. This moment is life, just like every other moment she’d been blessed with. And it was the moments of life that were passing her by. When was the last time she listened to the wind? When was the last time she was this still? When was the last time she’d tuned in to her baby boy? How much had she missed because she’d not stopped or slowed down and paid attention?

She sat thinking long and hard, not about all that she’d missed. She always thought about what she was missing and how she could make up for it next time. Instead, she thought about never missing out again, turning it all around, facing her fears, and making peace with her demons. She thought about being honest with herself, treating herself with respect, being a better example to her son about how to be the best steward of all that was given to her. She’d grown so accustomed to just denying it all or living with it that it was difficult to imagine it all healed, lifted, and gone. But the wind whispered to her and the chime rang for her and in them she heard confirmation that the moments of life were meant to be walked courageously, intentionally, and with care. Holding her man-child, she knew she had no other choice.

She stood, lifting her now wet boy and turned the key in the door. She opened it and found a house not so dark – the full moon was shining through the back window; not so cold – the heat that rises to the ceiling had fallen comfortably throughout; and not so smelly – the food in the frig had not rotted. The morning’s rush mess was not so bad and baby boy was actually asleep. She’d call the electric company shortly, pay the bill over the phone, and they’d reconnect her tonight. In the meantime, she’d clean baby boy and put him in his bed, light a candle, take stock in this teachable moment, and never let another one pass her by.

Sadiqqa © 2008

Big girls do cry.
-- Anonymous

Sometimes we get lonely. Sometimes it seems nothing is going our way. Sometimes it feels as though no one is in our corner or available with a strong shoulder for us to lay our head on. Sometimes it’s just one of those days and you just want to curl up somewhere and cry.

But grandmama told you a long time ago that you should be a “big girl” and not cry about it. She said babies cry and Lord knows you left the baby stage many, many years ago. She told you to just suck it up, shake it off, and get over it. You’ll be alright, she said. You’ll be alright because she was.

Was she? Did you ever see your grandmother cry because she was hurting or stressed out? Or did she only want you to see her cheerful and strong so she only cried in the dark or at church where it’s okay for praying and beseeching grandmamas to cry? Do you think grandmama was really alright?

Hopefully by this point in your life you realize that, while grandmama an’ ‘em meant well, that their intention was not to deaden your emotions, but to teach you to restrain your feelings so you wouldn’t be perceived then treated as weak and inferior, maybe they were wrong or misinformed about crying. Maybe you learned that tears were a problem, but now that you’re grown and experiencing life on your own terms, you know that tears are the result of a problem and that their release is in fact natural, curative, and necessary.

Research suggests that tears contain stress-related toxins and other waste products that if not released can negatively impact your health and well-being. If you hold tightly to grandmama’s directive to suppress your tears, your body may be a campground for all kinds of bacteria, viruses, and infections that are the culprits of tumors, high blood pressure, and heart problems. And how relieved do you feel after you’ve had a good cry? You may not have solved the problem that resulted in your crying, but releasing all the toxins makes you feel lighter, cleaner, and sometimes clearer.

Perhaps if grandmama had released her tears freely and more often, the preacher who offered her last rites could have spoken about the condition of her heart and not the murderous heart disease that ended her life.

Don’t deny your tears like grandmama did. Let them go as you let go of the internal messages that have kept you from crying. Grandmama now understands.

Sadiqqa © 2008

Not only does The Flavor of Love paint a demeaning picture of male/female relationships and women in general, it also presents the mostly African-American contestants in an embarrassing light...
-- Common Sense Media

Admit it, you watch it. As a matter of fact, you’ve seen all three seasons of The Flavor of Love, its reunion episodes, and cheered when Ms. New York got her own show. You watch the show with your mouth open wide, your nose turned up, and disbelief on your face that somebody so, well... you know. But you watch it. You watch it for its comedic relief and because you just can’t believe it. You watch it and you tell no one about your hour-long breach in judiciousness, your descent into the abyss of ridiculous and unintelligent television programming, and you watch bug-eyed at that train-wreck of a show as it takes off and travels wildly each week through the airwaves, mad that you gotta wait ‘til next week to see “Cutie” yell at “Bootie” and Flav shell out his clocks to the bawdiest contestants you’ve ever seen in your life. Aren’t you embarrassed that you’ve been caught?

(So is the “Thought...,”!)

Here’s what’s really embarrassing. Shows like this are a slap in the face to Black girls and women who have to keep their wheels turning 24 hours a day just to get ahead. This show, and others like it, objectify us, relegate us to eternal positions of jezebels, and receive greater ratings than the shows that project us in serious intellectual and professional stations. Shows like The Flavor of Love push all of us 500 steps backwards and nearly smash apart our efforts at Black female development, advancement, and empowerment. Yet, each week we watch the show.

It’s not so much about the television show as it is about the fact that we’re watching it. We’re in such awe at its outrageousness that we have acquiesced to its base messages – (a) it is necessary to compete and fight over a man and (b) the uglier and louder the fights the more the man will believe you are down for him. How utterly ridiculous is that premise!? Yet, we watch the show each week, boosting its ratings, giving clear sanction to its parent company and the advertisers that this kind of programming is acceptable and pleasing.

Certainly we should consider this and stop watching the show and others like it. But, again, it’s much bigger than the show. Just as we are stupefied by the drama in the hot tub, SO ARE OUR BABIES! And while we can discern what’s done for entertainment purposes, our children aren’t always so clear. Not only are they unclear about what they’re seeing, the messages they are receiving – (a) it is necessary to compete and fight over a man and (b) the uglier and louder the fights the more the man will believe you are down for him – make it difficult for them to distinguish healthy relationships, both male and female and women’s friendships.

By ceasing to view these artless reality shows, three things would happen – (1) the ratings would go down, (2) the programmers would be left with no choice but take the shows off the air, and (3) we could use the time we waste watching the shows to teach and show our children models of what real living looks like. We could teach our girls that bachelor millionaires are hard to come by, and that if and when they do surface, it’s not necessary to parade oneself like cattle in order to marry him. Bigger still, we need to show our girls how to make a million or more of their own!

With that time, we could teach our boys that real dating and mating have very little to do with how much money you have, and if your relationships ever become about money, then a new look needs to be taken. Our boys should understand from us that all girls don’t place priority on money, big cars, houses, or jewelry; that most girls and women are looking for the same core values they are – to be loved and loved well.

It is our responsibility as adults to provide for kids the counter programming that television reality does not offer. We can turn off the televisions and be their source of information about healthy, loving, and lasting relationships in the real world. We can show them how women can trust one another and be friends. We can teach our babies social skills that keep them from resorting to name-calling and spit fights in a fit of anger. We are able to do this, those stinky television shows can’t and won’t.

As long as people watch, there will be narrow-minded shows like The Flavor of Love. But as long as there are shows like The Flavor of Love, there should be a clamoring from us to organize, collaborate, and get in the floor with our children to ensure they are protected and mentally mobilized against the sexism espoused by the thinking behind this and these types of programs. With every free element in your energy and for the perpetuation of our Black Selves, you must thwart the hold dumb and demeaning television programming has on our children.

And on you.

Sadiqqa © 2008

Every time a girl reads a womanless history she learns she is worth less.
‑‑ Myra and David Sadker, “Failing at Fairness: How America’s Schools Cheat Girls”

Welcome to another March of Women’s History Month! You’ll be delighted this month with full coverage of famous firsts by women like Mae Jemison who became the first black female astronaut and Toni Morrison, the first African-American woman to win the Nobel Prize for literature. You’ll be swamped by biographies of notable women like Bessie Coleman, the first black woman to receive a pilot’s license and the first woman to get an international pilot’s license. You’ll get your feel of stories about women’s suffrage, women’s rights, and the Women’s Movement. Television will bring you lots of women’s movies like “The Color Purple,” “Waiting to Exhale,” maybe even “She’s Gotta Have It.” And right away, you’ll see and hear commercials celebrating the lives and contributions of U.S. women and marveling at the strides and advances women have made throughout every genre of life.

What? You didn’t know there was a such thing as Women’s History Month?

And neither do our baby girls!

First, let’s be clear. A look at and celebration of the contributions of women to American life is in no way a slight to men or boys, just as Black History Month was not a slight to anybody who isn’t Black. It’s an opportunity to take a 31-day moment to look a little closer at how women have added to and starred in the breath and course of America. Women’s History Month gives room for women to see the larger picture of themselves and collectively pat one another on the back. And it would not be a celebration if it snubbed men who have stood side by side with women to make humanity as whole and healthy as possible.

Now, that said, our baby girls. When LaTika picks up her 5th grade American History book, she will read about explorers, the Colonial era, the Boston Tea Party, the American Revolution, the Constitution, and snippets of slavery and the Civil War. She will read about Columbus and the Pilgrams, Thomas Jefferson, John Adams, Abraham Lincoln, Frederick Douglass, and Harriet Tubman as she relates to the significance of the Underground Railroad and role of the abolitionist. For the most part, LaTika will study this history and without demur take it as the only history alive.

Until she one day needs to know with certainty who she is and where she came from, although by this time she has made some wrong choices and taken some bad turns.

If only Latika’d had an ancient hero to light her way, one who was built like her and looked like her. If only the textbook editors had cared enough about her psychoemotional development to include sections about how women fared and contributed during the making of America so that LaTika could use these stories as models for living and surviving. If only she could have heard feminine voices in the pages of her history book. If she and other girls and women had only been considered, perhaps LaTika’s search for self would not be so undeniably hard.

Today is our opportunity to make that change. Textbook publishers like Houghton-Mifflin or McMillan/McGraw Hill may never include the in-depth women’s material necessary for helping a girl find herself in history; it’s up to us, it’s our responsibility to help girls see themselves in the making of this world, this country, and our community. Our baby girls must know about Sacagawea, Phillis Weatley, the Salem Witch Trials, slave narratives, the Seneca Falls Convention, the 19th Amendment which gave women the right to vote, Ida B. Wells Barnett, Margaret Sanger, The Feminine Mystique, N.O.W. and the Coalition of 100 Black Women, Shirley Chisholm, Title IX which prohibited sex discrimination in federally-funded education programs, Ms. Magazine, Roe v. Wade, Sandra Day O’Connor, Geraldine Ferraro, Anita Hill, Condolezza Rice, the wage gap and the glass ceiling, and countless other women and issues that make this country what it is.

Certainly, like Black History Month, there’s more to learn and discuss about Women’s History than can be done in one month. For that reason and the fact that our girls deserve to be acknowledged in the history of America, we celebrate a life-long observance of the gifts women have provided us throughout history. This we do for the love, perpetuation, and sustenance of our girls and all humankind.

Sadiqqa © 2008