the day you almost slipped away... |letter #19|

Dear Mummy, 

I do not know what would have happened to me if you really had left this world that day.  I do not even know whether or not I could have processed that information enough for a reaction.  The start of the outflow of those words all humanity dreads would have led me to march up to the hospital myself in disbelief.  I would shake you in that cold hospital bed and scream out your name. Wake up from this illusion these people have created for you, Mummy, because you are not gone. My mother would never leave me, I would say.  She would put up a fight first. 

It's funny because when you told me later on your experience of that night, you really did fight and struck a deal with God.  You felt yourself slipping away with voices and images ringing and flashing through your mind.  You were scared, but not of death itself.  You knew you would enter the heavenly gates of the Lord, no doubt in your mind.  Yet, you were scared to leave us: a twelve year old daughter, three year old and ten year old sons, and a husband who would crack without his wife.  Thus, you fought for live and pleaded with God that your children were not ready to be left without a mother.  You begged and prayed for more time here on Earth.  You battled avidly with death itself until God finally granted your wishes.  So, here you are Mummy, living among us like you were never once threatened to leave. 

Courtesy of sleepyjeanie


Courtesy of Refracted Moments

Fighting is such your character.  When you stand for something you believe is right, you will never cease to speak up for justice.  Selflessness is another part of your character.  Although in tremendous pain that night, you put aside the needs of yourself and begged to continue taking care of your family.  You chose a lifetime filled with pain over an eternity with the Lord himself just for us.  There is no one on this Earth with the integrity, strength, passion, and courage like you. 

My mother is a strong woman and without her,  I would not be the woman that I am today. Her guidance, love, and support have shaped me to believe in, treasure, and practice the values I hold today.  But what if I was wrong about her fighting to live? What if she really did leave me, my father, and two younger brothers behind that night? Honestly, I could not have imagined what I would have done at such a young age.  I would have been too selfish to understand why God would take her from me.  My life would have taken alternative paths. Maybe I would have went astray.  But it wasn't meant to happen.  My mother is here with me today and I thank God everyday.  I may not know how much longer I have with her, but best believe I am cherishing every moment.

Courtesy of Stmarygypsy 

Love,

Stephanie

just the little twenty things that make me smile... |letter #18|

Dear My Future Husband,

Courtesy of jefferyw

1. I love reading, watching, and listening to everything and anything about love & romance.
2. I enjoy writing, especially fiction.
3. I like desserts, brownies especially, when I don't burn them of course. 
4. I could be complete in the presence of my family for decades. 
5. A. Yes, the letter that you get in class. I'm obsessed with them. 
6. I like the feeling of getting comfortable in a dark movie theater chewing on the Buncha Crunch candy. 
7. Thunderstorms at night make me curl up under a blanket to read a romance. 
8. Babies. That is all. 
9. I would go across the world and come back just to see my mummy happy. 
10. When I dress well, I feel great, thus I love a great sense of fashion. 
11. When you tell me I'm beautiful. 
12. I love it when I laugh at inappropriate times. It makes it that much more exciting.
13. If I could I would travel to every contour of Europe. 
14. When people make me feel trustworthy. 
15. It uplifting to walk home into a clean, bright, and spacious place. 
16. Long summer nights filled with engaging conversation, captured moments, and spice. 
17. When you pay attention to the little things I do. 
18. Art, poetry, and spoken word always bring me to my desired place of creativity and peace.
19. Peace among those I love.
20. When young girls look up to me as their role model. The feeling gives me life. 

Courtesy of cupcakes2

Love,

Stephanie

call me cocoa... |letter #17|

Dear  Me,

I remember looking in the mirror in my mom's room one day after school.  I was smoothing down my curly  stiff hair and fixing my pressed white uniform top.  Everything about my appearance was neat, tidy, and presentable, yet I could not stop staring in the mirror like something wrong with me.  After more long minutes of staring at my own reflection, I suddenly realized why I could not see myself the way I always imagined.  I was dark-skinned and a deep part of me wished I was light.  I was only nine years old.

After watching a documentary exploring the deep seated biases about skin color, particularly dark skin, I was haunted with my own past emotions, thoughts, and experiences about being dark chocolate toned.  "You are pretty for a dark-skinned girl,"and "I don't usually talk to dark-skinned girls, but you can be an exception," they would whisper in my ears.  Had it not been for my dark color, some of the men I attracted would have approached me with ease and even with further more honorable intentions. I was not so disrespected by all men in my past.  Many of them fell in love with me, skin tone, personality, character, and all.  Most were not repelled by the color of my skin.  They saw past my skin tone and saw who I was.  I did the same. But could I say that these men did this because they liked dark-skinned girls to begin?  Only the afflicted thoughts of a dark-skinned woman would led her to believe it.

Regardless of whether I was being found attractive or not, growing up into my adolescence, I still struggled with my perception of beauty within.  I was always aware of how many light-skinned and dark-skinned girls were in the room at a time.  I sometimes felt not as pretty than the light-skinned girl next to me.  I was scared of getting darker by the sun in the summertime.  I secretly was offended when my friends would say they were lighter than me.

But after a while, I started getting angry. It wasn't fair that most of the black community would prefer a light-skinned "shawty" over a darker one.  It was vicious that way we are racist against our own people.  Surprisingly, black jokes are made by other blacks and when in argument, one the first combats made is related to the darkness of the skin.  Dark-skinned girls are made to feel ugly, convenient, and optional.  They are made to feel oppressed by the dark color of their skin.  Pass one by walking down the street without so much of a second glance back.  Preferences, they would call it.  Prejudice, I would say.  These destructive attitudes still live among us.

A good friend recently told me that the only thing that matters is all the makeup inside of me.  I have been told that all my life and have always believed it.  However, when that explanation came out of his mouth, it made perfect sense in the brighter light.  It was not what he said or when he said it, but it was how the words flowed.  I realized that although this long drawn controversy upsets me and leaves me often times feeling helpless, it does not take away from who I really am.  I will also remain me regardless of whether or not people appreciate my skin tone.  As a dark-skinned girl, I not only embrace my beauty but I embrace how my beauty does not determine who I am. I will still continue to be the reflective, intuitive, nurturing, and idealistic woman I have grown to become.  The color war does not define me and will no longer have an affect on my life.

Love,

Stephanie 


Courtesy of voxefx

ten things i was too afraid to say aloud... |letter #16|

Dear Those in My Past, Present, & Future,


Courtesy of Shandi-lee

1. I struggle to be honest with my true deepest emotions.
2. I am afraid of relationships.
3. Being very vulnerable with someone brings me anxiety.
4. Sometimes I wish I was a medieval princess living in my own world.
5. I am afraid of disappointing the image that I created for myself.
6. When I am on stage performing, I feel alive.
7. Sometimes I think if I don't become a doctor, I won't be successful.
8. I have in depth conversations with myself like it's normal.
9. I never show people how much I really need and want them. 
10. I would rather run away than be taken out of my comfort zone.

Courtesy of Jane Rahman

Love, 
Stephanie 

victim of a catastrophe... |letter #15|

Victim of a Catastrophe
Dear Haiti,

Have we heard your cry?  Have we looked to your despair when you passed us by?  The place of my roots, the place of the mentally, emotionally, and physically oppressed, why have you fallen with no motivation to rise up?  I visited you not too long ago, before your surface struck by the most devastating of tragedies.  I went to serve you and your people through medicine, aid, and attention.  I lived within you, blended with your rhythm, and discovered your mysteries. Though you wept for your people, I found life in them.  Lives so carefree, where was their stress? Where was their divided focus and attention to the superficial?  Instead, the people lived with the appreciation of life despite destruction.  They embraced what was really important because they thought this day was their last.  Although sick, needy, hungry, weak, and unable, the people were products of the internal jewels the world could not give us.  In their hopelessness, they found a freedom and peace others die searching for. Yet we see you as a victim of catastrophe, Haiti?  How mistaken are we for how long will we be blind to our own ever-present catastrophe within us?  Lives filled with consuming technology, where do our values lie?  Internally, we die a slow death as we make significant the things that will soon disintegrate.  Our relationships are sour, our patience low, our focus undivided, our motives dark.  We are the living in destruction that lasts longer than a simple earthquake. 

Courtesy of Expertinfantry 

Love,
 Stephanie 

it's not enough to just love anymore... |letter #14|

Dear My Future Husband, 

Courtesy of Re_

It's funny how some things don't work out.  Couple days ago, I realized that the fairytale love story I always dreamt for myself no long existed.  I've always wanted to be swept off my feet by this amazing man who was madly in love with me.  I wished to be wooed with declaratory acts of love and affection and I wanted to feel like I was the most desired girl in the world.  It's not like that over here in college.  Everyone is concerned with themselves.  Guys here don't want to woo a girl.  There are no acts of chivalry.  My desires for love and a relationship are out of place.



Courtesy of yasmin_f

 Instead, I need to learn the game in order to succeed in something that I don't even truly know that I want in the end.  Giving up myself is the key to earning the care, love, and attention I look for.  I need to look, dress, act, talk, and be a certain way to be considered attractive and "wifey material".  Did I mention it would be best for the color of my skin to be 3 shades lighter?  In the end, it's not enough to be me anymore.  Really, it's not enough to just love anymore.  That's ancient nowadays. 

Courtesy of voxefx

Love,
 Stephanie