A little something about what's going on with my hair these days.

College IS a good thing.

I just read a blog post by a black woman saying a college degree isn't necessary (paraphrasing). This is the second time I've heard this argument--the first was from a classroom of white people. Which is a bit more understanding. However, when I read it from someone who is black, it bothers me even more. I'm not one that knows every single part of my black history, but what I do know is there was once a time we couldn't get a basic education. We were prohibited from such a luxury. We weren't allowed to learn to read and write. Yet, now such a privilege has become one where the same people who weren't allowed to receive are now writing--"yeah, you don't even need one of those". This makes me angry. Especially because I'm a single black mother who's fought nearly eighteen years to get a college degree. Who has set an example for my children that going to college isn't optional. In America the playing field in just about every arena (sans sports) has us as black folks, a step behind the rest. Please don't take anything away from assisting us in getting IN the game. I am never one to use my race or color as a reason why I can't be/do/get something. But the fact is when one looks at me the color of my skin can't be missed. Why in the world would I give anyone a reason NOT to hire me. College educated, well spoken, great résumé. Check. Then lastly.... I'm black. Not the other way around. I don't want to limit options and opportunities by telling anyone education isn't key. For most races living in low socioeconomic situations, education is THE ONLY way out. The only way to provide a better life for themselves and their family.

If you've got TWO degrees please don't tell people that getting ONE isn't necessary. Look into the ghettos of the world, look at those who are living below the poverty level. Look at the single mothers who are struggling to feed their kids. If education is not the way out for them, then what is?!

Get a college education, folks!!

Quote of the day.

New things (part 2)

So where were we???….”That all happened. It happened Thanksgiving of 2013....” Oh, yes there we go.

Thanksgiving 2013. The plane ride was a mere two hours, but the butterflies in my stomach did not get that memo.  That was the longest two hour flight I’ve ever been on. Not only that but I was SO nervous. Yes, my brother and I had spoken time and time again, but this time would be so different. The kids were along for the ride and I had my boyfriend awaiting my arrival in Dallas. Even with the greatest and closest support I have in my life, I needed a glass of wine. That’s right. I couldn’t manage a two hour flight without a glass of my beloved red wine. It was ONE glass. It was the one glass I needed to relax. We landed and there waiting was my Sweet Angel Love. I hugged him and we held hands. Together with the kids we walked to that destination where I’d finally meet my brother. I think at some point in this walk, I must’ve let go of his hand, because, well I don’t know… nerves perhaps.  I was leading the way. I walked through the doors scanning the crowd for the face I had become so familiar with. It was nowhere. Then to my surprise behind me I heard his voice. I turned around and there stood….MY BROTHER.  He also had my nephew with him.  There was that weirdness of, how exactly do we greet each other?! So I stayed true to myself and I hugged him. A full on hug. For the first time in my life I was meeting the brother who shared the same blood as me. The brother who was the closest thing to my father I’d ever see. For me, in that moment it was just me and my big brother. Little did I know my Sweet Love Angel was taking photos of that moment. It was the greatest picture ever. Our first hug, on our first meeting.  Brother and sister. 

 My trip to see my brother and my father's family,were five days of nothing but bliss. On the day I was to return home, like a two year old internally I threw a temper tantrum and didn't want to leave. Seriously. No, really. Ask my boyfriend. That was a very unpleasant time for us both ;-) Family. Thanksgiving 2013 will always be my greatest Thanksgiving. Circled around the table for Thanksgiving dinner was MY family. I was asked to lead the prayer and in that moment I was able to thank the Lord for something I’ve never had (apart from my kids). Family. REAL Family! See, all my life it’s been me and Jesus. The word “family” never had very much meaning to me. Very similiar to an unmarried person would have no meaning to the word "spouse". You can't experience or understand something you've never had. To the one who was a ward of state. To the one who has almost no memories of growing up with my biological mother. To the one who always felt like Cinderella during childhood. I didn’t have my siblings. No one. Just me. And Jesus. It’s always been that way. Until now. I now have family not only by blood, but ones who love me.  Family that checks on me. Family that wants me. Family that loves me without conditions. Family that wants nothing more from me, than JUST me. I don’t know if many people will ever know what it’s like to go through life alone. It is a road I’d never wish on anyone.  Never feeling like you belong anywhere. Never feeling loved or desired. It's a very lonely and sad road to travel. It’s the main reason I will sacrifice as much as I can to make sure my kids NEVER have to grow up experiencing what I did. It's why I am still here in Utah. It’s why I will never allow anything in the way of them seeing their dad and his family. It's why they come before work, school, money, and anything material. In life there are only so many things you’ll remember as an adult from childhood. Those things don’t consist of all the gifts you received, or very much of anything materially-for that matter. Instead, you’ll remember who loved you. I don’t have that. That’s not to say that people didn’t love me, there are a few names (Linda and Claudette) that come to mind instantly. They took interest in me. They loved on me. They weren’t blood related, but we were related by Spirit. We were daughters of Christ. It was as if I was their daughter. I will always be thankful for the investment and love they showed me. 

Today as I say “family” it means something. Someone comes to mind. We talk daily. We visit each other. I know he loves me, and I love him.The decision to leave the place I’ve been for the last 14 years is one that comes easily. Thirty-five years without family and now I have it. I don’t want to miss another minute of enjoying that which most enjoy daily. I want my 36th year to be full of family.

Like music, there will be highs and lows. But also like music, having a brother will be/ IS....beautiful.  

New things (part 1)

It's been a few days since, and I'm still trying to wrap my brain around what has taken place. Daily, I have a flux of emotions that consists of everything from happiness to sadness, and everything in between. I feel like this post will be raw. Raw with realness. Raw with emotions. As I sit in this moment I really am trying to make sense of this new "thing". This new thing is so big I just don't know what to do with it. Yet it's something that has been a question in my mind for my entire life. For my entire life I had a suspicion. Yet because life had thrown so many worse things, it was never something I thought I'd ever find or get an answer to. I was wrong.

It was a normal day this October when my sister called me to tell me she was contacted and had his number and he wanted to hear from me. It was that same day after hours and hours, I got the courage to call. To call...the brother I knew existed, but wasn't sure really was my brother. Yeah my life story is like that. Mom was 21, dad---at least the one I was told was my real dad--was 51.Yes, that's right. 51. I made that call and from there it began. Before that day, I'd always look in the mirror and not understand why I got the dark chocolate gene when all my other siblings got the milk chocolate gene, among so many other questions about why I look the way I look. You know those things you look at in yourself and can identify which parent it came from--yeah, I was missing that. I knew I had my mom's eyes, but that was it. Until now.

Going back to October-- my brother and I talked for hours. I wasn't sure how it was supposed to go. Me at 35 him at 37, what do you say. Was hi, good enough?! For everyone who knows me I will usually keep things real. It was no different with him. We both acknowledged we weren't sure how this was supposed to work. So for weeks we talked. We laughed. We Facetime'd. We shared pictures and stories. Finally, there were some things that were starting to make sense about who I am. I could finally understand why I got the chocolate gene. I was able to actually SEE it. See my dad. My real dad. In pictures, considering he is gone from this earth. The dad I was never told about. The dad I knew about only "through the grapevine". The one for whatever reason only wanted a son, and not a daughter. My brother had gone through 37 years of life with this little secret that he had a possible sister, yet really only knowing for a fact that he was an only child. I'll never know what transpired in my brother's mind or life up until that time, that had him ask for my number. Whatever it was, it began this new journey. I'm thankful for it. For such a long time I've wanted answers and now I have them.

My brother and I talked for a month before we decided we needed to make sure we were indeed siblings. So we did. We got a DNA test. If you read or know anything about half sibling DNA tests, you'll know without a living parent being tested the test will almost always come back inconclusive. Both our mothers--mine which happens to be black, and his mom which happens to be white--- are deceased. Our only option if we wanted answers was to pay a really high price to 'gamble'. The odds were against us. But God is always for me. Knowing all this, we still needed to do it. For both of us. For our kids. For our families. That day walking into the DNA place was okay. Yet every day afterwards was a nervous wreck. Until. I was sitting in a class lab where I mentor freshmen, when I got that email. The results. Everything that was happening in class in that moment stopped. I couldn't breathe. I wasn't expecting an email! I was expecting something in the mail. I didn't know what to do. Prior to getting the results I told my boyfriend I would give the results to him and let him tell me what they said. Yet, I acted on impulse when the email came through. I read it. It read...(paraphrasing) " the dna test confirms there is a 98% chance you are half siblings". My eyes teared up.I walked out of class and called my boyfriend, then my brother. It was true. This was really true. I really had a man who was my father. I had a brother. To some of you this may seem weird, but when you've had the life I've lived, this was....momentous. I had answers. I now know who my mother was and who my father was. That alone was enough for me. I had never met the man who was my father. I was never raised by the woman who was my mother. Yet now I knew who they both are. I now have a pedigree. I have a lineage. I know where my paternal genes come from.

What happens after the DNA test confirms we're siblings?? I do what I do...and book a trip to make all this reality. I wanted and needed more than the talks on the phone. More than Facetime. I needed real flesh. I needed to see and hug the man who was my brother. The one who is the closes thing to my father I will ever come near. I needed to see him. That all happened. It happened Thanksgiving of 2013....

to be continued.....