Journey Part 2

I have always been a book worm. Actually that is an understatement. I have always devoured the written word, like I have a craving I can't satisfy. As a child and teenager I always had my eyes glued to a page in some form. This led to me having interest in an array of topics including forbidden ones I could not necessarily discuss with friends or my parents. I also have always loved journalism and listened to NPR religiously. When I was eight years old I had my ears glued to the radio and there was all this talk about sex, specifically oral sex. People were angry at the president and all the magazines and newspapers at the store checkout stands were covering the story. I didn't at the time know what the definition of sex let alone oral sex was or why this story was gaining so much traction. So I first asked my parents. They were HORRIFIED. Okay maybe not, but looking back on it the expressions on their faces was quite comical. My mom finally sputtered out " Well you're turning nine soon, come back and ask me after your birthday." Um yeah. That was not going to work so I did the next best thing. Good thing the internet was not really a thing then! (not in our house anyway neither was Television or movies)  I pulled out my Noah Webster to find the answers I sought. I found it to be vague and inconclusive (I actually wrote this down in my notes at the age of eight after reading it.) I recalled that my mom had a few copies of Red Book magazine lying around and I went in search of those. I asked her for a copy and told her that I wanted to cut out some pictures for a project. But Alas! She knew me too well and had removed (or hidden) all copies because of the "mature content." The only other magazines around the house were Good Housekeeping and Woman's Day so I knew all of my immediate resources were exhausted. I did the only thing I could do. I went to the library. 

I actually happened to be in luck that specific day because there were some teenage girls there looking for “My Last Body Book." They did not find the specific book but they left plenty of material for me to peruse and I hit the jackpot. I can't recall the title of the book but there were Lots of definitions and cartoon illustrations. A few months later when my mother sat me down and gave a text book version of the definition (not too far from the dictionary) I didn't tell her I already knew. Yet at the time my only remaining question was “what is all the fuss about?" I learned an important lesson. If I had future questions/interests which might prove to be controversial I would have to be discrete and conduct my own personal and private research.

 Fast forward about nine years later I was once again spending my free time in the library and I came across Ms. Magazine. I sat for hours reading various issues and hid a few after checking them out. Unfortunately I did not hide them well enough. My mom upon discovering an issue hidden under some folders in my room asked me “what are you doing with this lesbian magazine?" I attempted to explain, I lied said I had no idea that there were any lesbians featured and that I checked it out because there were all of these amazing stories about work women were doing in the U.S. as well as internationally (which was actually true). I continued to read the magazines at the library only and I found another publication "Bitch" magazine at a bookstore and I wanted to read everything I could about Women organizing and activism and yes feminism. I desperately yearned for a space in where women could have an active and amplified voice. I wanted that space for my own voice. I felt at the time boxed in many ways. I was raised in church (something I may discuss in further detail in the future) and in that space I knew I was limited in what I could say, do and who I could become as a woman. 

As a teenager I was very active and did literally everything I was allowed to do: choir, youth choir, Sunday school bus ministry, sign-language team, youth outreach, girls club, before church musicians, before church singers, after church clean up, regular church clean up, and other things not organized I did on my own such as cooking/cleaning and helping an elderly couple I loved very much with their grocery shopping. I also held bible studies in my parent’s home  (sometimes to guys who would get my number and thought they were going to get with me). The church was my community, my home, and as I saw it then, my only future. So it seemed best that I embrace it in its entirety. Or at least almost. There were many issues I swallowed, ignored or pretended to be ok with and/or understand. However the issue of women was one I constantly questioned. When I graduated high school and was preparing for college I went to talk with the pastor about my lifelong dream of becoming a journalist (I had been infatuated with Michele Norris as a child) he told me I had to find a different career path as I am a woman and couldn’t be in any “delicate or questionable” situations such as going into a bar for a story or horror of horrors riding in a car alone with a man! I was heartbroken and I spent weeks crying, praying, fasting and thinking about the situation. I knew in order to have a life God was pleased with I had to do whatever the pastor instructed.

After that situation I became acutely aware of the sexism and power dynamic related to how women could lead their lives but I pretended it didn’t matter and I threw myself into prayer, the Bible and wrote for the church newsletter as my outlet.  I would speak in youth service, the only time women were allowed to speak in the pulpit and even then for only about fifteen maybe twenty minutes. I would often be told that I had the touch of God on my life, that I was a leader and that I had much potential to be used mightily by God. At the time I would silently respond “to do what?” Women were not even leading the church clean-up teams (even though they were making up at least 90% of the teams. The one exception was the first pastor’s wife leading the church for a year after her husband’s death. I talked to her a few times about my desire to do more, to become something or someone leading people. She told me “it’s hard as a woman, being a woman alone  (with regards to ministry) in the church is almost impossible.” The only other times women were being “used” at least in the sense that I understood at the time, was when they were married to or related to a preacher. The majority of those instances they were either singing, playing an instrument and nearly always cooking, cleaning, and raising children for them. I wanted no parts.

I didn’t even necessarily want to be married. I talked to the pastor at the time about this as well. I told him the only ways I saw women being used were in these contexts and people always told me that I would marry a preacher. He of course patronized me, told me I could do many things and proceeded to list everything I was already doing. I quickly lost any illusions I had that the change I would make to my world would be in that space. There is a lot more to that portion of this story but as I mentioned previously I may delve into more details in a future post. 

The point is I have for a long time desired to see women and be a woman who can be active and mobilize people. When I was five years old I wanted to be a missionary doctor. I wasn’t sure what that entailed but I knew I wanted to go to less fortunate communities and provide resources and safe spaces for people who would not otherwise have access to them. My mother told me “you can marry a man and help him.” When I asked her why she said women could not lead men or preach/teach them. I didn’t exactly want to preach, but I knew even then I didn’t want to play second fiddle to a future husband I might not even like sometimes. Yes I was a weird child I know. One day I was looking through photo album we had at the church of missionaries and I found one missionary who was a woman! I was so excited! I dragged my mom to the shelf where the book was housed and showed her. She conceded but also told me “well she has never been married and you don’t to be single all of your life do you?” I told her I wasn’t sure and she told me it would be very lonely. I was only five but that conversation shaped my perspective and my aspirations as a young woman in the church for years to come.

Disclaimer: My mom meant well, in fact much of my inspiration for a woman being assertive in a positive light was garnered by her example, but that is another post for another time.

While I no longer have any desire to lead in any church of any sort I still believe in missions work and uplifting people specifically women in various capacities and I have met some dynamic organizers here in Atlanta who are doing just that. There have been many challenging moments since my relocation here. Such as finding work in or related to my field of study (something I am still working to accomplish) navigating the city using public transportation, creating a social life, networking and lastly dating. I have never been an outgoing/perky person. I prefer a small setting with only a few people I share common interests with and I have rarely been aggressive in any social aspect. That however is rapidly changing since I have moved here. This is a place where for all intents and purposes introversion does not serve me well and I have had to break out of this part of myself to survive. It is scary and uncomfortable yet also quite liberating. I am still on a mission to determine what my purpose is/will be in this city at this specific stage in my life, but I know for sure that I no longer am required to be quiet or shy about anything I want in life or anything I desire to do. I have to chase and grasp it without any reservations. I have met reproductive justice organizers, students who are fighting to increase minimum wage, people organizing against racial injustice and law enforcement, educators, every-day blue collar workers desperate for someone to listen when they speak and many others. As I am a private person, opening up and embracing all of my selves on a multi-dimensional level can be quite exhausting but I know if I don’t I will never grow.

 Recently I was in search of a space to find Wi-fi and coffee and after an hour long bus ride to East Atlanta I found myself in the middle of a festival filled with music, art, food and people enjoying themselves. I sat and looked out of the window of Joe’s East Atlanta Coffee shop, I pondered as I watched people dance in the rain and bob their heads to the music I began to mentally compare myself to them. I started with attire. Them: flannel checkered shirts, fedoras, distressed jeans/ripped tights, boots and converse, floral dresses, tattoos, brightly colored hair cut into asymmetrical styles. They looked so… free. Me: red jeggings, stretched polyester top, brown knitted shawl, tan calve length boots. Hair in a large afro puff and gold hoop earrings. I began to wonder to myself, how can I feel so at home in this place yet feel like such an outsider at the same time? (ironically the same feeling I held when growing up in church)   

I decided my only ammo to combat this feeling was to get out and explore the festivities so I did just that. Upon doing so I met a guy wearing a dashiki, an afro, and a backpack full of canvases. He offered me art for donation but I was not working at the time and was unable to purchase anything. We began to talk and somehow he knew many of the things I was struggling with internally, as well as my zodiac sign, that I am a writer and that I was feeling under-accomplished. He offered me a painting for free and encouraged me to pursue my passion. After we parted ways, I realized that I was right to trust my gut about moving to Atlanta and this indeed is exactly for this moment and time where I belong.