Space.

by Amber on October 28, 2011

Let me preface this post with this statement:  I am in the happiest space I have been in my life.  Even at 20 pounds over weight. Even with my grandmother in the state that she is in.  Even with a number of things that remain out of balance – I am very happy.

I just think it is important you find your space in the world.  As joyous as where I am is.  As grateful as I am to be here, as hard as I work to prove to myself, and also to “them,” that I belong.  Deep down, I know… I don’t really.

Not belong. I can fit. I am able to accomodate and behave appropriately.  But there is a part of me that is just who I am that just doesn’t mesh well in certain kinds of places.  Regardless of how much I age, of how mature I become.  I don’t like when my natural self is perceived as inappropriate, or abrasive, or like I have an attitude.  When really, I am just secure in my opinions and that strength translates in the way that I communicate them.

I don’t like turning me down, or trying to blend in. But in this space – it is required.  And I kinda like this space, so I do.  As much as I tuck it in, it seeps out.  As much as I hold my tongue, it translates. It’s me.  It is only a matter of time before it creates a problem in this space, as it has in the past.  A very honest conversation I had yesterday confirmed it.  At my greatest effort, at my most heightened sense, at all systems go – professionalism on a “hundred, thousand trillion” – being this is so unnatural for me that I can never cover it all up – regardless of how hard I try.

This is just not my space in the world.  It is my space – for now.

And I am grateful for it.  I am immeasurably appreciative for the way it has happened – it is as accommodating to me as a space like this can be.  Especially considering I don’t belong.  All I can do is fit.

And ride it out until I have the strength and confidence to step into my own space.

A.

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Black.

by Amber on October 11, 2011

This post is a little sensitive, but I try not to shy away from the obvious issues, because without some attention, they will never reach any semblance of a resolution.

I am a Black woman.  While I may be very fair, have light colored eyes, and not the kinkiest of hair – I am still Black.  I don’t like watermelon, I peel the skin off of my fried chicken, and I do not like Kool-Aid.  I am still Black.  Not because I have been called a nigger, not because many of my friends are black, not because I went to school in Detroit, at a predominantly black school.  I am black because, despite the many cultures in my bloodline, being a Black woman hits home for me.  Being black is what I am connected to.

But even that statement needs further clarifying, doesn’t it?  What exactly “hits home” for me?  Do I somehow feel connected to slavery, although to my knowledge, none of my family members were slaves? Do I feel oppressed by other cultures, especially whites?  Do I feel validated by the Civil Rights Movement, support the opportunities provided by Affirmative Action, celebrate holidays like Juneteenth and Kwanzaa?

The truth is, these kinds of questions, this need to assess why or how I identify with being Black only comes from other Black people.  This incessant evaluation, this need to connect through broken or manufactured traditions, this crippling, close-minded and oppressed view of being Black is encouraged by us: Blacks. To non-blacks, my connection to blackness is pretty non-negotiable. Honestly, I am over trying to define or enrich it, and I would love nothing more than to help each of us over it as well.

I have been called half white by other Blacks far more than I have been called “nigger” by non-Blacks.  I have encountered less inclusiveness, less welcoming greetings and more curiosity from Black people, than I have from any other race or culture. In the quest to define ourselves as Blacks, unfortunately, many of us get hung up on details only recognizable by ‘us.’

We can not begin to heal, to reclaim our cities, our leadership, our children or our families until we claim ourselves.  Until we understand that Black is not only brown skin and kinky hair.  Until we understand being Black does not have to mean you want to return to Africa.  Being Black does not mean that your great-grandparents had to be enslaved.  Being Black does not mean that you are impoverished. Being Black, just like being white, or being Latino, or a number of other races, can embrace diversity.  It can encompass a vast number of small differences, and even large differences without being hateful or isolating.  After all, none of us had any control over the history from which we sprang, be it rife with stories of slavery or Island poverty or South African tribalism.

Or not.

I personally feel like we need to stop searching for a tangible definition of Blackness against which to measure our own.  Stop creating reasons to isolate Blacks from Blackness, when truthfully, those of us who are Black, know it in our souls, even if we are without words for what that means.  Stop finding reasons to separate light skinned from dark, middle class from impoverished, and just ante up and unite to get somewhere – anywhere, together.

/rant.

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Pitch

by Amber on October 7, 2011

My tone has changed.

Finally.

A sincere improvement in my natural pitch.  People who speak to me regularly have taken a moment to note it, and although I don’t actually hear the joy in my voice, I feel it.

I have been a great many places, both physically and mentally.  Many of them uncomfortable or undesirable.  I have grinned and bared it.  I have renewed and revamped and started over more times than I care to admit.  I have repeatedly tried to quit.  I have come back against my will.  I have been jealous.  Insecure.  Unconfident.

But I have never, truly been happy until this year.  And I am here to tell you – happy is not just a state of mind.  It is a state of whole being.

Happy requires alignment.  You have to find mental peace, emotional peace, and physical peace.  While those requirements are the same, for each of us, that looks different.  Some people have a surer path, a simpler path, a quicker path to happy than you. Peace may come easy to them; may require less.  Sometimes that makes us angry, or prone to imitate.  Which will lead us to further malcontent – because while imitation is flattery, it is not peaceful.

Figure out what peace looks like for you.

And run tirelessly toward it.

Feels different answering, “how are you?” with, “I’m great, no complaints,” and meaning every letter of it.

*of note: the title of this post is a nod for the Detroit Tigers sitting the Yank’s down in the ALDS.

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