vintage graced my bones before i ever knew what grace was. humility. mama shopped free. had us convinced that we made the clothes worth something; during a time when rocking rabbit fur and knitted hats in 4th grade could get you stomped out (schoolyard pizza lol). when all the kids had the latest (bk's, guess, reeboks, gold chains), mama glorified the #handmedown, dark spots on bananas. took bleach and water to mothball and avon stink, her and the scrub-board worked it out. that's why i'm so girlrillavintage-girl real with her vintage. vintage was my first home on earth and it cost me nothing. gave me courage. taught me bout grace before i even knew who she was.
To the person I love most in the universe. My brave side. Leo with the biggest Lion heart. Cheers to words, memories and a failed chocolate cake just for you! You would be reaching 38 young blood. 10 yrs. Damn! How time feels. Rest on little brother…
Ancestors, we are winning despite how things may appear or feel. That our disappointments must be the source of our inspiration. That our lives are not defined by the problems we face.
Still I can smell the cesspool. All this really stinks. Thick air. Children in cages. Women groomed as little girls to never tell. Holding her brothers box of ashes with bare hands. White folk moving into the only hoods our black skin ever touched.
No time. No space for us to grasp or grip or grieve, yet we breathe, we hold you in high regard. Always. We know your truth leads our way. Rest in love and light to all those that have surrendered their breath. Thank you for this bit of peace you left behind.
This mercury in retrograde is happening during eclipse season y’all through the end of July. A thought, go slow, go inward. Align all your faculties with matters of the heart. Maintain healthy boundaries. Be your truth!
Take a breath. Life is beautiful. The weeds, flowers, sunshine, our perfect hearts. The sensation of skin touching. Fresh and supple and together. Deep. Slow sex in the morning. Footsies. These are just moments. And in-betweens. And I just want to never stop loving like my life depends on because well my life does depend on it.
I think the easiest thing after a betrayal by someone we love is to question the validity and worth of ourselves in comparison to the betrayal. When in reality our worth isn’t tied up into anyone, but ourselves. That the betrayal likely started long before these moments. The betrayal might’ve been why we left in the first place. I found out on social media that a person I was recently romantically involved is getting married.
I’m sharing this because my heart is hurt. My heart is not hurt because they’re getting married. My heart is not hurt because I’m not happy for them. My heart is not hurt because I want to be in a relationship with them. My heart is hurt because I didn’t hear it from them. My heart is hurt because I thought so highly of this person. My heart is hurt because of the nature of our friendship, how intentional we were to remain. My heart is hurt because we respected each other. My heart is hurt because they didn’t grant me the opportunity to celebrate them. My heart is hurt because up until now we’ve been gently and lovingly transparent about EVERYTHING, even when it hurt.
For anyone feeling the sting of betrayal today, know that it has nothing to do with you. Know that our lives will go on, will thrive just as they always have. Know that we are enough during this transformative time. I recall my umi’s words, “We can wallow in self-pity for a little while, just don’t stay there”. We’re responsible to forgive the betrayal of ourselves for this person. We gotta create the closure we need. Take time and space.
Stanlee’s death affects me deeply because so many black women and mothers aren’t given any love, support or breaks in this cruel world. We are left to our own everything. I think of my mother who had died an emotional death that she never recovered from long before she died physically.
My heart is broken today. A young mother of three completed suicide in Pittsburgh Pennsylvania two days ago. We all have a painful tune we carry. No one is exempt from a pain like this, the thought, a memory.
I took a mental health first aid course earlier this year. Most of the people in the class including myself used the term ‘committed suicide’ when recalling stories. However, as the instructor described that using the verb ‘commit’ when followed by an act is generally reserved for actions that many people may view as sinful or immoral. Someone commits burglary or murder or rape or perjury or adultery or crime or something else bad. Suicide is sad, for those left behind yes, but the person who completes suicide is not committing a crime or sin. Rather the act of suicide almost always is the product of mental illness, intolerable stress, or trauma.
Though taboo we need more love in this world. More love. ❤️