Inmypromise White

With words like “value, worth, and actions” being thrown around I had time to remember when and, how I found my identity. Years of my life were spent wading through finding myself based on the actions of those who were supposed to build, mold, shape, nurture, and protect my value. This is significant because your identity helps you determine and, display your value. I have seen the crumpled dollar demonstration multiple times but, what is not transferred in that lesson is value we as people obtain is based on our foundation as children. The intrinsic wealth gain through the incubation of love from our caregivers. Currency is made to be spent with no regard for the hands handling or the machine knocking it around.   Yes, we are born with value but, who helps us learn to read the denomination on the paper? How does one know if they are a hundred or a fifty dollar bill? What happens when the process of growth is marred by attempts of destruction.  My influencers, support systems who re...

Tupac and Boyz II Men have given us great examples of why mothers are held to be so sacred. I agree with their loyalty and reverence, however, my single mother was not my surrogate father. Being raised by a single mother meant that I learned how to be resourceful. Having the privilege of being reared in a house without a man in leadership also taught me how to dismiss the male perspective. I would be an adult before learning the emasculating tone and actions that were my childhood norm like Warner Brothers’ cartoons. These behaviors were masked with domestication to give an appearance of submission. My Mother was the cater to you, cook your meals, rub your back kind of woman. In the very next breath tell you how trifling your last attempt at make decision in her house was because you were not capable of making decisions for her family. I recall giving my mother a card of appreciation for several years in June. Extending the proof this is a systemically societal issue there was a...

She is beautiful. She is almost angelic. She is the right proportion of smooth and rough. She embodies the essence of nurturing. She is inviting and warm. She adorns in regal bouquets of browns and silvers. These long autumn gowns cause salvation in all humans male and female alike. She is in my life but, not a part of my me. She arrived at the ball dawned in her cinderella's best and waltzed her way into the lap of madear. After taking madear to be her conquest she was not satisfied. She desired to create a family harem. Given like a birthright to my father a cursed blessing to love. My father wooed as she poured. They danced together in the liters of fermentation. This concubine turned wife. He made a wife of her but, she made a mess of him. For a brief period he sought in the bosom of my mother. She could only have half of him but, that was enough. Like any mistress she tolerated his wife's perfume on his lips. She accepted her lingering intoxicated dire...

You may have heard the saying, "people are in your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime." I am intentional about showing great appreciation to my lifetime people. No, season person can say that I did not pay them due homage. Yet, it the reason person who i owe the most debt for my growth. It has been the reason people who taught me who I was not. It was the reason people who lighted the dark spots of my judgment, pride, and lack of love. I had to learn to be a better person. I was not challenged as long as I had to love those who loved me. Thank you, for hurting me. Thank you for betraying me. Thank you for teaching me the size, shape, and texture of the red flags. These banners are dawned by those who build the foundation for toxic relationships. This division of heartache is comprised of people who enter our lives for reasons . We always invite them in and allow them to take refuge turned siege. It is only at the point we discern their placement in the ...

But GOD.... they keep asking me how? Why? What helped me? The words to the gratituitous heart yield very little to the pallet of expression. Perhaps if I wept knelt down amidst the essence of feet and oil spilled from an alabaster box? My groanings could effectively communicate. How does one turn off the thrust of the drum that is in motion? The wind of the arm that falls on the skinned percussion encasing the heart. Like sausage my heart is being processed.  My heart breaks at each reflection. Simultaneously my heart flutters at the renewed mind in vitro. Why not embrace the tug on my newly transformed heart for women who look like me when..  talk like me when.... act like me when... Why bother making a video for my youngerself when my palm is her fingertips. My eyes are her eyes. My pain are her present.  Now, to provide her with my provisions.  What provisions she sees will help her push past her cons she is envisioning during her present. I see the lens past...