That's Seaux Random!

• My Saints lost their season opener. I am super sad about it. Especially since we lost to the freaking Falcons. I HATE the Falcons. They are our division rivals. Oh well, still a Saints fan, still yelling "Who Dat!"
• While food shopping in Sam's this weekend, I ran into my hs/college ex's Mom & Grandfather. This woman hated me the entire time I was dating her son. I haven't seen her in years. She hugged me & I was so shocked. She was actually happy to see me. We had a conversation. She told me that she missed seeing and talking to me. And, that she didn't know I was back here. It was odd but interesting. It was the weekend of random encounters. There is another one below. 
• I randomly met this man Saturday. He was looking for my apartment manager. He told me his whole life story in a matter 10 minutes. Told me that I have a nice aura and that I was beautiful. It caught me off guard but it made me smile. It wasn't a situation where he was trying to get at me but just an honest exchange between two folks. 
• I had a really good weekend. Slept like a baby. Spent time with my family. Reconnected with some friends. Just a really good few days and I am appreciative of it.
• I think the above took place because I did something I've known for months that I should have. It's not always easy to do the thing that must be done. But, I have to look out for my well being because there is no one else who will do it for me. Loving myself more and more every day. It's my life and I'm gonna live it for me and me alone. 

• My legs got the tan they've needed all year while laying out by the pool early Saturday morning. I love it when the color of my legs matches the rest of me. It doesn't happen nearly enough. I had to take photos to remember this lol.
• I am taking this online modern poetry class. It started yesterday. This first assignment is about Emily Dickinson & Walt Whitman, two of my favorite poets. The class is ten weeks. I cannot wait to see what I will learn from it. 
• Two different people told me that I seem sad and that I don't seem happy. To a point, they were both correct. It's been a very long 20 months for me. I don't feel the overwhelming hurt and pain and sadness that I once did. I also do not feel like there is a dark cloud over me anymore. Am I 100% better? No. And, I honestly don't think I'll ever be. I loved someone deeply and I was hurt just as deeply. That changes you. It changed me in ways I can't even begin to explain. But, I'm better. I still haven't learned how not to cry over it. I'm working on that. But, I'm on my way back to me. That's all I could pray for at this point. I'm taking care of me first, last and always. 
• The fact that Michael Brown's killer Darren Wilson has not been seen or heard from in a month is ridiculous. The fact that he hasn't been charged or arrested is in-damn-sane. There is no justice here if you're Black. This country has no use for us. We seem to be disposable. It makes me sick.
• I have been severely neglecting my blog :( I feel bad about it but the words in my head are ones I don't want to write out or share with the world. They are better left unwritten. I am trying to motivate myself to write more and be better about the upkeep here. I'm trying my best. I promise to be a better blogger, writer, woman. 

“Too Black or Not Black Enough?”

Her: “Why do you talk like that?”Me: “Like what?”Her: “Like a White girl.”

I was confused the first time I was asked this. I didn’t know any other way to talk. This was my voice. These were my words. I knew that White people looked different than the people in my family and neighborhood. Other than that, I did not know any more. I was a Brown girl in a Brown world until I started school. My parents gave me Black dolls to instill a sense of acceptance of who I was. Even then, I loved my brown skin. My Dad, who was Creole, would always say that “his brown girl was so pretty.” I never knew that my brown skin would be an issue for others.

I was in the 2nd grade when I realized I was different. I didn’t think like them or act like them. Just different. I was moved to Honors classes where I usually found myself the only Black person in the class. The White kids made me feel unwanted. I remember being told “you aren’t smart enough to be in this class” during the first week. My test score were high. That shut some of them up but not all. They did not feel that a Black person belonged in this elite class. They let me know that I wasn’t welcomed, wasn’t one of them. I was ostracized in those classes. It just pushed me to work harder. And, I did.

I lived in two different worlds. At school, I was an island surrounded by white people in class. The only time I felt like myself was during lunch when I was with all of my friends. There was issues there too. Other Black kids in school and in my neighborhood picked on me as well. I was called “White girl” more times than I can count. One insult always hurled my way was that “I was talking White” or “trying to be White.” Neither was true. I was being my most authentic self. I talked proper because my Mother did not stand for slang. I was known to read the dictionary because I loved words so much since I started reading at 3. I was the odd girl out because I liked school. I was the girl sitting on her porch reading a book. Kids called me a nerd because “I was acting White.” Education was very important to my Mother. Failing wasn’t an option. Between the things she planted in me and shows like “The Cosby Show” and “A Different World,” higher education was not a dream but my reality.

Did their words hurt me? Yes. But, I was lucky to have a Mom who taught me that a person’s words mean more about them than they do to me. She always said “You are destined for more than this street and this neighborhood. And, your education will get you there.” I lived by those words. The White kids who were bothered by my Blackness in “their Honors classes” and the Black kids who thought “I was trying to be White” were all stepping stones for me to excel. I was on a mission. By the time I entered high school, I was excelling in almost all subjects. There were more Black students in my Honors classes at this point. The isolation I once felt dissipated. I was exceeding my own goals in school. I was happy.

Even now, at the age of 34, I still get told that I sound like a “little White girl.” It doesn’t bother me. I don’t sound how I look. I’ve embraced all of me. I sound the way God intended me to sound. All of this is just who I am. I’m a Black woman the color of milk chocolate, skin that’s been kissed by the sun and blessed by the Most High.