A "Precious" Conundrum

Like many of you, I had been dying to see the new film “Precious” for weeks. After all of the glowing praise and promotional spots on TV and the web, I was eager to experience this movie for myself. I finally saw the film this past Saturday and I am STILL shaken by its emotional intensity. I will probably NEVER see this film again in my life (it was WAY too much for me!); however, I applaud director Lee Daniels’s courage to create such a gripping film that sheds a light on the realities of domestic abuse. As those graphic images from the film replayed in my head on Saturday night and disturbed my slumber, I woke up on Sunday morning grateful that I had seen the movie because it made me realize how blessed I am to have a family that truly loves and supports me. But, at the same time, it also left me with a million questions about how we can help the young girls and women who are living this nightmare every day.

For most of my childhood, I was raised by my sisters Diane and Donna. These women made some HUGE sacrifices for me to be the woman that I am today. Trust me, I was no walk in the park, especially during my moody teenage years. After seeing “Precious” it made me realize just how blessed I was to have them supporting me and my dreams. Because Diane and Donna always kept a roof over my head and food on our table, I had the luxury of stressing about mundane teenage woes such as trying to get a boyfriend, boosting my popularity, and earning passing grades in my dreaded math classes. I cannot even begin to fathom what it would have been like to spend my teenage years experiencing the kind of abuse that Precious endured.

While I this film helped me to put my own life in perspective, I now have a “Precious” conundrum. This movie made me wonder about and ache for the young girls and women for who “Precious” is not a film, but their reality. Most of us saw this film and were able to go back to our comfortable and safe lives. But what about the girls and women that are in real domestic danger? How do we help them? How do we prevent abuse like this from even beginning? Sometimes I hate watching films and documentaries like this because they leave me with more questions than answers. I have no doubt that this film will sweep up many accolades during award season (MoNique was absolutely INCREDIBLE in this movie. She truly scared the SH— out of me!). However, after the hype from this movie has died, how do we use this spotlight on domestic abuse for a greater purpose? How can we keep the “Precious” girls in our communities from becoming another statistic?

There’s No Job Too Small

“If a man is called to be a street sweeper, he should sweep streets even as Michelangelo painted, or Beethoven composed music, or Shakespeare wrote poetry. He should sweep streets so well that all the hosts of heaven and earth will pause to say, here lived a great street sweeper who did his job well.

- Martin Luther King, Jr.

Over the past three years, I have come to greatly appreciate the maintenance staff at my apartment complex. These men are the most dedicated professionals that I have ever seen.

Tonight, I came home to discover that my toilet, which has been running non-stop for the past two days, was still running after two previous maintenance calls. After dinner, I made yet another call to the after-hours maintenance answering service and within 20 minutes another maintenance guy came to look into my leaky toilet. He came right into my bathroom and without a second thought he took the top off of my toilet and immediately plunged his bare hands into my toilet to further investigate the problem. Being the uber girly girl that I am, I was grossed out by the sight of this guy sticking his hands in sewer water and fiddling with toilet parts. When I got over my gagging moment, I was humbled by the fact that this man honored his job enough to answer my after-hours page, stop whatever he was doing, and make his way to my apartment to solve my problem. I’m assuming that at 8:30 at night he was probably kicking back with his family or maybe about to crack open a cool can of beer before Monday Night Football. But, instead he was up to his elbows in my toilet water. Even though my toilet still isn’t working properly (Argh!), I profusely thanked him for coming to my apartment. There certainly isn’t much glamor and prestige in the maintenance field, but these seemingly small and thankless tasks that these men do make a huge difference in the comfort that I have in my home.

After the maintenance guy left, I began thinking about the opening quote from Martin Luther King, Jr. I realize that there is great honor in doing every job well and with excellence. Even in my day job as a book editor where cynicism flows more readily than praise, I have to remember that every little thing that I do for my authors is valuable, whether I receive a compliment or not. If I don’t show up and do my part, the world will not have the benefit of my meticulous editing skills, my special jokes, and my laugh that has been known to light up a room. Obviously, I’m being a little braggadocios here, but we all have to remember that who we and every little thing what we do MATTERS to somebody.

We all can’t be Oprah, Bill Gates, Steve Jobs, or President Obama. Somebody has to deliver the mail, remove the trash, teach the kids, and maintain the roads. While these jobs aren’t particularly sexy or noteworthy, there is no job too small or inconsequential when it is done well and with honor.

While I pray that my professional path will not involve me getting elbow-deep in toilet water any time soon, I am so honored and inspired this man who attended to my toilet with such fervor and care that I am dedicating this day to working as hard and as passionately as he does.

Let every little thing that you do today light up the world around you!

The Joy of Being An Auntie

As I was holding my newest nephew, Joshua, last week, I was reminded of one of the great gifts that I have had by being part of a large family – the joy of being an auntie.

I can still remember the first time I held my oldest nephew, Clifton (Tank), when I was just 7 years old. I timidly asked my sister Wanda to hold him and when she put him in my arms, I was so mesmerized by his tiny fingers and toes. At age 23, he can now hold me (LOL!) and I’m so proud of the incredible young man that he is becoming.

Being the cool auntie to my nieces and nephews is great because I get to be the fun adult that they can share with and relate to. It’s also wonderful for me because I can be a vicarious parent and send them back home to my siblings when they start to get on my nerves! I have so many amazing memories with all of them, some of my favorites include

• Watching Tank and Chris during one summer and having to beat one of them with a plastic bat. I was unsuccessful because one of them (I think it was Chris) slid under their bed

• Babysitting my oldest niece Karin for the first time and since she didn’t poop, I left an overflowing pee-pee filled diaper on her for SEVEN hours! Rinn, I’m sorry for that diaper rash!

Taking joy in the fact that one of Karin’s first words was “Eeah”

• Babysitting my nephew Tyler and trying to figure out why he would not stop crying. I turned him over and discovered that he had poop going all the way up his back! After that, we were good. This little bugger is now 7 years old and takes great pride in kicking my butt in Dance Dance Revolution.

• My ABSOLUTE favorite memory is Tank and Chris’s excitement when the ice cream truck would arrive in our neighborhood. They could not pronounce the syllable “tr” when they were toddlers and they would replace the “tr” with the “f” sound. So, every time they heard the chimes of the ice cream truck, one of them would say, “Mommy, Daddy, here comes the ice cream f---. Made me laugh EVERY time.

With nieces and nephews ranging from 23 to 3 weeks old, it’s just awesome to see how these little people in my life are blooming and to take pride in the fact that Aunt Leah’s love had a little something to do with how wonderful they are becoming.

I look at my littlest nephews Thomas Jr. and Joshua and I can’t wait to have as much fun with them as I did with Tank and Chris. Hopefully, I will get a little bit more respect from them than I did with Tank and Chris, but I can’t ask for too much, right?

Thank you Tank, Chris, Karin, Emmanuel, Kezia, Tyler, Thomas Jr., Taylor, and Joshua for filling my life with so much joy. Being your aunt is one of the best gifts that I could ever have. I am so proud of each and every one of you and I am just bursting with excitement to see how great all of you are going to be.

Forever Young

My cruise getaway to Bermuda was just too fabulous to put into words. But the absolute highlight of my trip was the conversation that I had with Mr. Joe during the Midnight Buffet.

By the third day of my cruise, I was super relaxed and feeling fine. All of the trivial things that I was stressing and worrying about before my trip were floating far, far away on the Atlantic Ocean. That evening, the ship’s magnificent cooks and servers had laid out the most spectacular spread for the Midnight Buffet. I make no exaggeration when I tell you that the spread was at least four feet long. I was actually kinda ticked that I ate dinner on the late shift and was still full by the time the buffet began. I stuffed down what few morsels my overstuffed tummy could hold, ordered a slamming Pina Colada, and joined the rest of my ship mates in dancing to the Electric Slide, Booty Call, and the Cupid Shuffle. It had been far too long since I had had that much fun. I was in heaven.

An hour later and a half later, my belly and my feet told me that it was time to call it a night. As I got ready to return to my cabin, I ran into one of my dinner partners, Mr. Joe. Mr. Joe is a 68-year-old retired computer programmer from D.C. He had me howling at dinner with his beautiful spirit and his delightful tales. While I was preparing to go meet the Sandman, Mr. Joe told me that he and his crew were just revving up and were going to do a little bit more dancing at the ship’s disco room. As I began gathering my things, Mr. Joe invited me to join him dancing. I politely refused and told him that I was tired.

Mr. Joe got a real serious face and took me to the side and said, “Leah, baby, how old are you?”

I said, “I’m 30, sir.”

He looked at me disapprovingly and said, “Now, let me tell you this. You start doing old folks things, you gonna start being old. Now c’mon up here with me to this disco and enjoy yourself.”

Before I knew it, I had joined Mr. Joe at the disco and we had fun dancing to R. Kelly’s “Love Slide.” After that, I was really tired, and I bid good night to Mr. Joe and his comrades. I discovered the next day that he and his crew shut the disco down at 2:30!

Out of all the wonderful people I met on the ship, my conversation with Mr. Joe at the Midnight Buffet has stayed with me because I realize that I want to be as fun, lighthearted, and energetic as he is as I get older. To paraphrase the classic phrase, “Getting older is mandatory, growing older is optional.” I’m not looking forward to creaky knees, reading glasses, and Ben Gay. But, I am looking forward to being wiser and more thoughtful and living my life even more fully than I do now. I was inspired by folks like Mr. Joe who could still party till 2:30 in the morning. I don’t think that shutting down a dance floor will ever be my calling (LOL!), but I look forward to being one of those fantastic older divas who still has life and vitality and can rock a pair of fabulous heels well into my 60s and 70s.

Thank you, Mr. Joe, for inspiring me to be forever young.

The Art of Piddling

Greeting from my favorite place on earth -- my couch. Yes, friends it is Vacation Day #3 and the living is easy. I had a whole list of things to get into today, but I decided that I just wanted to sit here and perfect the fine art of piddling. What is piddling? Taking time to do absolutely positively nothing and love every moment of it.

I used to feel SO guilty when my friends and family teased me about my marathon piddling sessions. It's nothing for me to watch TV for six or seven hours, soak in the tub for two hours, and sleep for at least 10 hours on a Saturday morning. As my life has become fuller and richer with new friends and awesome opportunities over the last few months, it's been a little harder to get in my piddling time. I also recognize that it's no small feat to get up every day and work, combat office politics, be present for friends and family, and manage to keep it all together. So, when I am blessed to have a stretch of a few hours to sit back and relax, I get my piddling on.

Pidding is refreshing, reviving, and necessary. I realize that I am speaking from the vantage point of being a single gal without the responsiblities of a relationship or children at this point in my life. But piddling time isn't just for single folks; it's even more crucial for those of you who are married with childen. Kick your hubby out of the house for an hour or two and make sure he takes the kids with him. Call up your single girlfriend and ask her to watch your kids for a few hours (Note: To my girlfriends with kids, not this week, tho. LOL!). We all MUST make sure we are taking the time to refresh our spirits by vegging out, having long phone calls with good friends, reading a good book in one sitting, or just sitting in our favorite chair and just being grateful for life.

Yes, you all can feel free to make fun of me on the 25th when my vacation is over. But for now, it's me, a bag of Pirate's Booty, a liter of Diet Dr. Pepper, and 20 hours of worth of my favorite shows on my DVR. Let the piddling commence!

P.S., Are you one of those folks who doesn't know what to do with your free time? Pick up The Art of Doing Nothing by Veronique Vienne. This is a great book full of great ideas for a day of piddling.

10 Years of of Happy Nappiness!

This month, I am celebrating 10 glorious years of my happy, beautiful, nappy hair. It took me a LONG time to find peace with my hair and to find styles and products that make my hair look and feel marvelous. However, my natural hair journey did not begin so smoothly. It actually began with a few...OK who I am I kidding, a LOT of tears.

I had worn a perm for almost 14 years, beginning with my first perm at age 7. My sisters Karen and Wanda spent many a Saturday laying down my roots and curling and frying my hair to perfection. However, their hard labor was often in vain due to my super thick hair resisting all perms known to mankind. It was like my hair looked at me and said, "Oh, you wanna be straight? Sike!" Me and perms never got along. Between the scabbing, itching, and my hair's inability to have that elusive white-girl hair bounce, I was done.

During the summer of '99, I attended at natural hair care work shop at Sibanye Bookstore in Baltimore. This was right around the time when Erykah Badu was uber popular and she and a few other famous women were making it cool to go natural. I began my natural journey by embarking upon the slow process of wearing two-strand twists that merged my natural hair and my processed hair together. The eventual goal would be that the permed hair would be cut off every four to six weeks until it was completely grown out. Anybody who has gone through this process knows that it is HARD to manage two COMPLETELY different hair textures. I couldn't wait any longer so....I decided to cut all of my hair off.

The day I cut my hair off, I was SO nervous. My stomach was rolling with fear. When I got to the salon to do the official cutting, I just closed my eyes and waited for the hairstylist to finish. When she was done, she and the other stylists raved about how great I looked. When she handed me the mirror, I was just shocked. My hair had never been so short. I was speechless. I went home and I cried. Hard. (If you need a REALLY good laugh, just ask my brother Thomas to recall how I ran upstairs to my room that night and immediately covered my head). After the initial shock, I grew to love the low maintenance of my natural hair. I loved that my head did not have to sting from harsh chemicals and that I did not have to fear the rain ruining my hair. I learned how to care for my hair in a way that is fun, creative, and liberating for me.

Ten years later, I am still in love with my natural, beautiful, nappy hair. I look forward to spending my Sunday nights puting my hair in my signature two-strand twists or releasing my twists and wearing my favorite super curly Afro or twisting my hair in flat braids or just putting on a head wrap and calling it a day. I've received more compliments in the last 10 years than I had in the previous 14 years when I permed my hair. I believe that those compliments are a natural extension of the love that I have for my hair.

As women of color, I know that we fight tooth and nail about how to wear our hair and all the politics that come along with it. I fully recognize and acknowledge that I am blessed to have come of age in a time when it is more acceptable to wear natural hair. I believe that every woman has the right to do what is best for her. As I write this blog today, I am currently wearing my hair pressed out. It's beautiful and wonderful that as women of color we can have so much versatility with our hair. I occassionally make jokes with my girlfriends who have perms and tell them that they need to say away from "the white man's box of poison." But, it's all in fun. I say that we should all find what works for us, whether it is a perm, weave, dreadlocks, or an Afro, and rock those styles that make us feel and be beautiful.

I'm including a few of my photos from my natural hair journey (Good Lord, my hair has come a LONG way!). I also list a few of my current favorite products. Enjoy!

My Hair Journey

• Left: Me (in the lime green sweater) with my TWA (Tiny Weeny Afro) - January 2000
• Center: One of my first sets of two-strand twists during college - March 2001
• Right: My Auburn Wanna Be Mary J. Blige Afro - November 2001 (Seriously, nobody loved me enough to tell me how wack that shirt was?)

• Left: My signature two-strand twists - New Year's Eve 2007
• Center: My favorite curly Afro - October 2007 ( I just love when I come into work the first day after I untwist my hair and, it NEVER fails that one of my white co-workers will say, "Your hair is so different today. What did you do to it?" Still makes me laugh EVERY time!)
• Right: Flat twists with a Afro puff - April 2006 (I just love the classic "Home Alone" expression from my co-worker's kid. Had to leave her in the picture!)

My Current Favorite Products

• Carol's Daughter Black Vanilla Leave-In Conditioner (I spray my hair with this right before I begin twisting my hair)
• Carol's Daughter Mimosa Hair Honey (LOVE this stuff! Great for setting twists and giving incredible shine)
• Nexxus Humectress Shampoo and Conditioner

I Fly Above!

Every week, I swear that I will not watch another episode of The Real Housewives of Atlanta. Then, about 30 minutes later, I give in and find myself hopelessly entertained by these insane women with WAY too much time on their hands. I've convinced myself that watching the show does make me feel better about my drama-free episodes of A Real Single Gal from Alexandria, VA. After watching catfight upon catfight, I was quite surprised to find a spiritual nugget in last week's episode.

I spent about a day and half last week trying to figure out how to form a better relationship with a team of my colleagues. I looked at this group from every possible angle. After giving myself a near aneyursm, I just gave up in a fit of frustation. Then, I went home and watched last week's episode of The Housewives and I was captivated by Kandi's new song "I Fly Above." I really loved the lyrics of the song which said

I'm so comfortable in the skin I'm in

I'm secure about who I am

So you can go ahead and talk all you wanna

I built up a shell and it's hard and it's armored

I fly above all the drama, I fly above, I fly above

It's beneath me, it's beneath me, it's beneath me

When I woke up the next day with that song still ringing in my spirit, I knew that it was the answer to my dilemna. That particular group of folks was not worth me getting down in the weeds and wasting my precious energy. Instead, I can choose to fly above that drama and give myself permission to just let people be who they are and not try to change them or change myself for them. How liberating!

Before you waste this beautiful, God-given day worrying about anything, pray about everything! Let God give you the wings to fly above whatever challenges you are facing today.