Saturday, May 30, 2020

Creative me

Creative me 

Creative me is life in poetry 
It is the wind, waves, rain and sun that bloom when I sing

It is the hug I give myself 
when I write words on paper from my ink pen and embed feelings of melancholy and euphoria that flow together to create magical lines of power 

It is the flames of shame that my words will go unwritten and or unnoticed because I have lived in the shadows of nightmares unrelated to me 

Creative me is the 10 year old girl who was silenced, shredded and shut down by mom and grandma when I proudly shared that I when I grew up I wanted to be a singer. My smile left and my head was down as they floundered the antithesis of education being the only way because somehow I wouldn’t make it. 

But my dad, my dad  sat there silently taking glimpses of me. And when look back I think to sing was his dream but someone had made him rethink.

Creative me is probably hidden because my family had forbidden all the truths I wanted to be. So how could I become this thing if they didn’t even believe in the God given me?

But creative me mustered you the strength with unequivocal fear to tell my husband I wanted to move to LA because Houston was just a safe serve to chase my dreams away

Creative me is the waves of freedom 
The matchless words of wealth 
The paddle to release my regret 

I know that if creative me doesn’t live 
Antoiniqua will suffer at the hands of her own demise 
flashing the golden rings of fancy that were only tickled by a 9-5 

Auspicious occasions where my nameplate was supposed to be overshadowed by the fear of the greatest me. 

I will stand tall and feel the fear anyway 
Be scared and become the next MJ fade-away 

Friday, May 29, 2020

Weight loss Me

Weight loss me 

So you had a baby and your body is shot to hell now what are you going to do? I thought that if I breast fed my baby I’d lose weight faster cuz that’s what they tell you. If I just maybe eat less but I can’t because I’m usually drained after I feed my baby. I was producing all the milk for him but I felt empty. Trying to find my body again and wondering if I’d ever get it back. Not only was I the nutrition supply for my son but I also had a husband who wanted me too. Sexually yes but intimacy was missing as I was in solitude to my baby. The stranger I was giving everything to and my husband who was mostly understanding but needed me too. I wanted to please my husband but the post partum projections had me scared. What if the pain was more salacious than the pleasure? 

To be honest, I’ve been trying to “lose weight” since forever. I remember, the first man I ever loved told me I needed to workout at the grandiose age of 6. I didn’t quite understand but I found one of my moms Jane Fonda workout tapes and started doing it almost incessantly. He walked in and saw me doing what he had said I should and he said “I didn’t mean right now”. I replied, “that’s ok,” and continued my workout as he walked back to his room. I still remember those leggings and body suits filled with thin white women and some men that I’d never attain. But that memory has been etched in my brain and I’ve tried to become that thin white woman for years. 

Even as I look at my kinder, first and second grade pictures, I don’t see anything wrong with my body but I guess I was wrong because when I was 7 I asked for more ramen from a babysitter. My brother and I had split the pack in half. She told me I didn’t need anymore and that I was big enough. Her friend chuckled and then she began to apologize and said she shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t understand. I was just hungry and wanted more food. My brother didn’t really eat so it was always me bartering for food. 

It wasn’t until 3 years ago I remembered this incidents and it made me sad. It made me question if my quest to a BEACH BODY was all in the name of wanting to be loved by someone who would ultimately abandon me. And I thought maybe if I lost weight he’d love me and come back.

From 3rd to 5th grade it turned into Billy Blanks Tae bo tapes and I became more and more aware of my body being different from everyone else’s. Not only was I bigger, but my boobs were more developed and then I had an epiphany. Those shots I was getting in my thought every 3 months in the 3rd grade was in fact birth control. Talk about HORMONES! I wasnt sure if it was explained to me but this method was used for me because doctors were convinced that I would start my period “too early”. So my family decided it would be best to stop by using this but I’m not too sure this was the plausible choice. I was never out. Right called fat but family members would make comments about my body and weight and what I ate. 

But in 8th grade I played softball and thinned out a lot. It was the smallest Id ever been and I wore a size 10. I was grateful and felt better about myself. It didn’t last forever but it made me feel good. I was a good size but to the rest of the world I was definitely looked at as fat. And I thought I was too. This notion haunted me throughout high school because I wanted boys to like me. I just laugh at myself now and. Think, “GIRL WHY DIDN’T YOU ENJOY YOUR BODY?” It was beautiful. I have countless journals of diet plans to get me to 140. My life was an emotional stance of weight projections. And really it caused me to try and find love in other ways with my body from different people. Low self-worth is MF. 

So here I am now at the heaviest I’ve been in my life, struggling once again to love me AGAIN! 

I do want to lose weight for the sake of my health. I don’t want to be tired from walking up and down my stairs because before now even though the world saw me as fat I was healthy. European standards of beauty are exactly that European. However, I still want to love myself. I want to feel worthy in this body that has been through crazy things in life. I want to hug that little girl who was 6 and say it’s ok your enough I like your body even if it is not slim like the rest of the world and if your hungry eat don’t starve trying to prove yourself. 

For the past 6 weeks I’ve been a part of a program to lose weight and though I haven’t lost a lot of pounds, my body composition has changed. Thank you to Massy for the MA warrior program it’s been incredibly helpful. Though I like my sweets. My journey hasn’t been perfect but I am seeing results. 

So here is to weight loss me. Your body can do hard things and it’s hella beautiful. Just watch the transformation to health through healing. Here’s to trying to find the love in me. 

Wednesday, May 27, 2020

Blackly exhausted: Silence kills


I remember being silenced by someone in my mlm company who told me not to discuss politics in my post because people wouldn’t by from me. I listened (white privilege) She also shamed me for saying that I didn’t like someone because he called me a hoe. She told me it didn’t matter basically because she liked him. Oh and she was very poised in being “COLOR BLIND”

I remember a supervisor at UW comparing her experience as the only blonde in a group of brunettes in her sorority to my black experience. (White privilege) 

I remember explaining to a co-worker that being Latina encompasses being Puerto Rican, Dominican etc. She got upset because we (me and my co-worker who was actually Puerto Rican) made her feel dumb. (White Fragility) 

I remember a white co-worker using the N-word as she explained how she was taught that the N-word wasn’t a person of color but the way people acted. I laughed because I couldn’t believe it and it felt like I was in a different world. The white fragile co-worker came to me after and said I’m sorry she said that to you. I said well it happens often. Afterward I told her she offended me and her reply was a simple well you know I wasn’t trying to offend you. I cried on my way home. I was the only black person who worked at his school on base. It felt like the worse part of me had somehow sprung out and I didn’t know how to protect myself. I stayed up all night. Contemplating what to do. I ended up letting the principal know who went to HR but she assured me she wouldn’t get fired. I talked to HR and they gave me fluff about their initiatives which were bullshit. However, I didn’t fight. I was 8 months pregnant and I was already anxiety ridden at this point about my first born son and to add to that would be a detriment to my existence. (Racism, privilege, institutionalized racism) 

These are just highlights of my life as a black woman moving through mostly white spaces. I’ve been in these spaces most of my life and I have yet to find solace. Whether it be overt or microaggresive, I am unable to fully comprehend how people walk around with so much faith in their whiteness that blackness being discussed is unfavorable. That somehow people who work with black and brown kids all day can say nigger and say I hope this doesn’t offfend you and move on. 

I’ll admit most of these incidents I felt I had to apologize for being me. For being sad, silencing myself to make money, to make others feel good about their whiteness. But none of these people wake up in my reality. They are okay with being salvaged in the secrets of fault because anything else makes them feel guilty for the ancestral blood that is on their hands. That somehow your color blindness is single handedly muzzled in a new awakening! I will gladly empower myself and others to say the truth even if it means people will not make business transactions with me. 

Blackness is always taught to be harmonious in order to survive. Without it we cannot move forward because non compliance means no having a job to support our families, it means being heckled by co-workers because you went to HR, it means dealing with ignorance on your job even if it hurts you, it means saying sorry to the white person who you made feel bad even though you were right, it means listening to undeniable privileges being forced on you as it somehow relates to your blackness. It means people being more concerned about Colin kneeling than about the reason he is kneeling which is why yesterday a black man died, it means being resilient even when people try to break you, it means death and even while you comply it still could mean death. It means talking to my son about how he moves in the world as a black boy and man because of how they see him. It means my husband being stared at and sometimes white people jumping when he passes by. Being black has taught me that you can’t win and even when you do somehow we still lose. 

So from now on I will not be silent so you can feel comfortable. I will use my voice. I will share my thoughts even if it makes you feel uncomfortable. Even if you call me the angry black woman I will tout it in strength. Your uncomfortability is not my problem. 

To be a Negro in this country and to be relatively conscious is to be in a rage almost all the time.- James Baldwin

P.S IF YOU ARE WHITE AND READING THIS PLEASE READ ABOUT THE HISTORY OF US. Don’t just celebrate our cultural implications AKA our music, our hair, our clothing etc. Know the truth of our history and yours too. How the colonization worked what it meant for black people, how historical racism breeds the systems that are currently in place. It is not our responsibility to teach you. If you want to know READ. Google is a your best friend. 

Examples: White Fragility, I’m still here: black dignity in a world made for whiteness are just two good reads. There are more just go find them. 

We have been slaves in this country longer than we’ve been free. 

Thursday, May 21, 2020

Cheers to 31



I am never really a person who intends to be celebrated. I’m pretty simple and don’t need much to sustain. When I turned 30 I wanted to go tropical but I didn’t have tropical money. I was a stay at home mom and my husband was the only one working. But you know at 30 it’s supposed to be a huge milestone and the turn up was supposed to be real. But that is t what happened. However, my husband did a surprise party for me with a group of people from church and took me on a trip to a place I’d never been in Washington. It was thoughtful which my husband always is. He even got people to write me little notes of how they viewed me with a pic of me in it. It was so sweet and kind. But if I’m honest I wasn’t happy. I felt like a failure. At 30, I’m supposed to have my life figure out and be making all the money in the world. Have this group of friends and BFF’s to celebrate turning up with me. And none of this happened. I was and still am a stay at home mom feeling lost, isolated, unsure of who I am. Sinking mostly in depression and just wanting to be free from all the things that I couldn’t handle. I lost my dream but most of all I lost myself. I realize now even more then before that my husband can not define my happiness that I needed to define it for myself. And as society and comparison continue to plague me, I’m realizing that it is necessary to find contentment in myself.

As some may know I am on a healing journey. I am currently in therapy and have had some of the hardest conversations with myself and others on this journey. After my dads passing in 2014. My world shifted more than I could handle and began therapy in 2015. But took a break because finances and I had a baby. Now in 2020, I am with a new therapist and within these 3 months I’ve been able to unveil secrets and begin to close chapters that I’ve held on to for 10 years with people from my past. However, the biggest realization was that I didn’t like myself nor did I love myself. Some of it has been because I’ve mostly felt different not black enough, not white enough, not loud enough, not worthy enough, not deserving enough, not pretty enough. 

So I’ve decided to blog about my journey to healing. The messy, the undeniable, the beauty, the ugly. But this open letter to myself is to begin to believe in my beauty both inside and out. To find the truth of me. To be unafraid of expressing who I am inspite of the masses who won’t identify. 

So cheers to 31 year old Antoiniqua who is unlearning to Become all of the things she was designed to be without the guise of others needing to validate me. The Niqua who will continuously be flawed but free. 

Monday, May 11, 2020

Exchange

I think I wanted this life
Frantically outsourcing my heart 
For death due us part
I was mostly a secret
But I was mind blowing in darkness
The pictures of fantasies 
Tantalizing my heart

Love was curable 
But driven by the wrong thing
The emptiness inspired me 
To do wild and crazy things
My soul was anchored in lullaby’s unsaid 
While other parts relinquished to J holidays Bed 

The secret admire I couldn’t hold 
My life filled with my anguish 
But my body was bold 
It kept every mans ego warm 
While I infinitely declared 
My bodies your anchor do whatever you please 
As long as your with me I do anything even it means being on my knees 

Now I digress into an abyss of lies 
My worth now entangled in falsehood of surprise 
The more I desired was no longer to be found 
I was creeping and sleeping while love was abound
Anything you can do I can make wetter 
My laughs sent through text as an illusive cry 
But he couldn’t see the deception of my heart 

Did he not see me? 
Was I a failure in bed? 
Nah gurl you trippin 
You did everything he said 
So why am I still empty in my chain of love 
You were exchanging bodies and was sitting up above.