About this Blog

The title of this blog, "I'm About to do My Thing," was inspired by Jill Scott's introduction to her poem "The Thickness" from her live album Experience: Jill Scott 826+. In this intro, she warns that the content to follow is "real" and proceeds to deliver a beautiful message about self-esteem in young black girls, what can influence and damage that self-esteem, and the entire village's responsibility--"it takes a village"--to elevate its children.

In a similar way, I want this blog to be a space for fun, spirited and light-hearted discussion on issues regarding black females, our bodies, our hair, our men, and our images. But I also want it to be a forum for intelligent and respectful dialogue as well. Like Jill's poem, this blog will tackle some real topics, and they won't always be light-hearted. They will, however, be about lifting each other up. I welcome such discussion, but if you have nothing positive to contribute, please don't participate. Otherwise, join in!

Tuesday, September 23, 2014

Mini Mo: Reading the World "Like Me"

Mini Mo turned three years old about a month ago, and in addition to all the wonderful things other mothers have warned me about regarding this age, my little one has become quite the vocal observer of her surroundings--but more importantly of herself.

This self-observation really caught my attention a few months ago during a trip to Old Navy. To convince Mini Mo she needn't fear the half dozen mannequins that greeted us at the door, I walked to the one that looked like a young black girl with afro puffs and said, "Look! She's got puffs like you!" She unclenched my legs and eyed the mannequin, asking me to lift her so she could touch its puffs. From that day forward, whenever we go to any shopping center, Miyah looks for mannequins with "puffs like me!" (On our last trip to Old Navy just last week, she hugged the mannequin with the puffs. I'm so mad I didn't snap a photo.)

I wonder what magic is waiting in
Mini Mo's puffballs.
She continues to notice hair that looks like hers, and I encourage her observations. After all, she got that hair from me. :-) I want her to know I love my hair and her hair and that she should love her hair, too. That's why I purchased Penny and the Magic Puffballs, a children's book by Alonda Williams about a girl who comes to appreciate her puffs and the power they give her. Mini Mo was shocked to find at the end of the book a collage of photographs featuring girls of varying ages and with all kinds of puffballs--and she even thought one of them was her! She saw herself, and it was a beautiful thing.

Her reading of similarities between herself and those around her extends beyond hair these days, though. Sure, she'll note that "Daddy's wearing flip-flops like me" or "Mommy's got a necklace like me." But she's also noticing skin tone. Just the other day, she stated out of the blue, "I'm brown," to which I replied, "That's right. You are brown." She continued, "Mommy's brown and Daddy's brown." I kept her going.

"What about your brother?"

"He's brown, too."

"What about Kayla*?"

"She's white."

This exchange was a clear reminder that children grow up understanding differences (and similarities) in identities early on; it's their environment that shapes how they interpret them. I was so happy that, in this case, Mini Mo's interpretation was one of simple fact--and Kayla is one of her oldest buddies. Well, old for a three-year-old.

Beyond observing her external identifiers, Mini Mo seems to be owning her power as an individual. Let me just say: I know that her stepping into her fourth year means she has a ton of ego. Truer words were never written of this child, who really seems to have been self-assured and confident from day one. But when she sees strong, confident figures in front of her, she relates to them.

Case in point: Her aunt and uncle sent her Dr. Kimberly Brown's children's book Queen Like Me: The True Story of Girls Who Changed the World for her birthday. When hearing about the wise Queen of Sheba, the Sphinx-inspiring Nefertari and the determined Nzinga--along with Harriet Tubman, Coretta Scott King, Mary McCleod Bethune and many others--she kept wanting me to repeat these women's names. It was like she needed to be sure she got them down. She then agreed with the book's refrain that each one was "a queen like me."

Sure, she's a kid who loves books and beautiful images like any other kid, but Mini Mo's increasing literacy surrounding her identity and those of others leaves me happy about the messages she's internalizing at this young age and at this historical moment. Would she have been able to see a mannequin with afro puffs even ten years ago? Doubt it.

As she grows older and becomes increasingly aware of forces that might counter these messages, it may be harder for our family--and her teachers, I hope--to maintain them. But we're planting seeds, and I'm confident they'll bear good fruit. Besides, Mini Mo also seems to have an affinity for truth...like me.

*Not the cutie's real name

Saturday, March 29, 2014

Happy Being Me

Image courtesy of HealthWorks
*Cough, cough* Goodness--I just wiped the cobwebs off this thing. It's been a hot minute, and a lot has happened in the interim. For starters, I got a new job that has completely changed the way I prioritize my time. This blog has not made the cut--but I've missed it.

Other things have happened, things that have caused me to seriously evaluate myself. More than at any other eventful period in my life (perhaps), this phase has revealed to me that the world outside myself can really get me wrong. I've dealt with guilt (self- and otherwise imposed) for having even less time with Mini Mo each day than I had before, for having to depend on even more people to help take care of her (so blessed to have wonderful folks in my life), for having a tough time figuring out dinner most nights, for having even less inclination to de-shamble my house. I've been planning to fantabulize Mini Mo's room since before she was born, and I haven't really gotten around to it--two and half years later.

Yet, I'm proud of myself and I like myself. I dared to try something new in my life, and I'm more fulfilled because of it. I recognize my shortcomings and am cool with myself in spite of them. I teach, converse with, listen to, discipline, indulge, learn from and treasure Mini Mo. I try to make sure my whole family gets quality time together and to simply show love, even with our ridiculously busy schedules. I let my hubby know that our relationship, as the root of our family, is paramount. I'm smart, I'm funny (sometimes in ways that only I understand), I'm kind and I'm pensive. I'm working to help others--and I'm a work in progress.

But sometimes the world outside myself can make me question my plusses, the extent to which I like my otherwise confident self, and downright judge me like nobody's business. It gets to be pretty heavy at times. So the other day, I got real with myself and said, "Self, sometimes you have to encourage yourself, and you have to take some time to be happy with yourself." The time I spent doing both of those things was invaluable, and I have a new commitment to them, to myself. More importantly, I think this attention to myself will make me a better woman, wife, mother, friend and person.

I'm not perfect, but I'm feeling myself--and I'm not counting on others to do that for me. I simply don't have time.