Yo, Nashville. @openmicmusic x Big K.R.I.T [5.16.13 | Limelight]
New OPENMIC today at 5pm! @openmicmusic … get some get some.
Affirmation. Assata Shakur.
Second time around.
My wall helped remind me this morning.
Weeks ago, I sat and watched a special on the first graduating class of Oprah Winfrey’s Leadership Academy. I was taken back and floored at the transformation these young South African jewels experienced at their school. They took the blossoming flight from caterpillar to butterfly at the exposition to knowledge- knowledge on an intellectual level, but much more importantly- a personal level.
This special aired in the thick of my process of saying goodbye to fear- no longer depending on a man, a relationship, an accomplishment, a fleeting form of identity to provide me comfort and security, no longer being afraid of being abandoned, or alone, no longer being afraid of not being good enough or unworthy. So naturally, I was moved by what I had laid my eyes on. Women: arriving at themselves.
During the commencement services, former wife of Nelson Mandela (whom I cannot recall her first name) delivered a soul rattling speech and said these words that lingered, and stung and pierced and shook my very soul, “Here I am. I claim my humanity with no limits and no fear.” I sat on my bed after the special was over and tears fell down my eyes. My sister asked what was wrong with me. I replied, “I don’t feel any fear. For the first time, I’m not afraid. I don’t feel ANY fear.” I had arrived at myself and I was claiming my humanity, my wholeness, my peace, my purpose, my identity, my value, my unmovable and unshakable value with NO LIMITS and NO FEAR.
Here I am.
The process had been off to a beautiful start and conveniently, I noticed a big chunk of hair missing from my head right above my left ear in the most inconvenient and obvious location. I knew this had come from a day I went Afro pick crazy. I knew it was my fault and that I had caused the damage, but I wasn’t sure what I was going to do about it. I had just transitioned into natural hair and was just recently figuring it out. My fro was huge and beautiful and got a lot of attention/compliments.
But I had to do something about the DAMAGE that had been done. There was no sweeping this under the rug. I had to make a decision. To either live with this insane looking spot of missing hair, get a weave or cut all my hair off. This dilemma spoke to my soul on a totally non tangible level. It was time to be bold. It was time to forsake the false identities, the vanity, the comfort and the fear with RECKLESS ABANDON.
How often do we become damaged and sweep the instance and the evidence under the rug, only to create a bigger mess to explode in days to come? How often do we let what people expect of us, comfort, familiarity, the need for acceptance/affirmation and FEAR keep us stagnant? Standing still, but broken.
Not I. I can make bold decisions and not fear the consequences. I can do the exact opposite of what I and others expect of myself. I can disconnect from the things that do not attribute to my health and wholeness. I can forsake the fleeting things and begin defining myself by my inner layer, the stuff resting at the core. I can live of off my own and God’s approval. I can move toward the light. I’m fearless. (AFFIRM).
So where’s my hair? Gone. About 10inches of it all around. I didn’t hold on to the remains either. Who wants the damaged junk? I’m starting anew. I feel free, beautiful and liberated. Like I just gave birth to myself. I don’t even feel a fragment of fear.
I have arrived at myself. Here I am. I claim my REBIRTH with no limits and no fear.
The sun will be up
The month will be May
And I’ll have an abundance of words to say
My blood will be rushing, thinking of you
While I’m keeping it from kissing the air and turning blue
But the sun might be setting
Colors in the clouds
Pink and yellow burgundies and purples falling down
And I’ll write a song about it if you stay around
@_simplychanelle is the prettiest teacher in all the land. for certain.
I came home to Harlem sleeping a few feet from the front door. He must have had a late night, or too many drinks. Such a wild boy.