Harry had a point

You all know the scene.

When Harry met Sally's famous lunch discussion about how men and women cannot be friends. Harry insists that in order for a man to want to be friends with a woman, he is most likely attracted to her, and if a man is attracted to a woman, eventually his attraction will lead him to have feelings and/or want to have sex with her. Even those he's not attracted to, sex will still get in his head eventually and lead to the friendship's ultimate demise.

For nearly twenty years, I have argued the exact opposite point. I insisted that I was living proof that men and women could be friends without sex getting in the way because I had successfully maintained a lifetime of male friendships without any problems (ok, very few anyway). But today, after some intense self loathing, I've decided to admit that (deep breath)... I was wrong.

(Straight) Men and (straight) women cannot be friends.

Because even if sex does not get in the way, something else definitely will. This is not to say that women can successfully hold friendships with ANY species, women, men, dogs, or else. Okay, maybe dogs. But specifically for this entry, allow me to address the problems with the male/female friendship at least from a female perspective.

1. The first is most definitely Sex/Attraction. As much as you try and deny it (women), if your male besty is in the least bit attractive, you've wondered at least once what being with him would be like... at least with regards to a relationship, if not in reference to some sheets. You might have even told him some drunken night how you feel about him, or you say it jokingly all the time because you know he'll never take you seriously. But in reality, you're hoping just once he'll admit to being secretly in love with you too, and then you'll live happily ever after and tell your grandkids the story of your friendship-turned-romance. Whomp whomp. Not gonna happen... at least not statistically speaking anyway. As soon as you spill the beans and/or sex/relationships/love gets in the way, there's no going back to old pals. One of you will never be able to look the other one the same way again.

2. And then there's Jealousy. You know, that feeling you get when you're wearing shoes on a day that ends in y. Meaning not often, of course. Maybe you've seen one of his girlfriends and started to compare yourself to her and decided you're better for him by far. Or you even subconsciously attempted to sabotage his relationship when you saw how happy he was and wondered if he'd be that happy with you. And of course you get angry when he starts to spend all his time with her, taking away from the time he usually spends kickin' it with you... Telling her his deepest darkest secrets when he used to tell you. Sharing some secret codes or inside jokes that he only had with you... Which always leads to the ultimate "choose" situation that either you or she (most likely the latter) will evoke, and of course he will choose the vagina over you. And goodbye friendship. Because even if he decides he made a mistake (aka it doesn't work out between them two), you're not some toy that can be put aside when a better one comes along and then picked back up at his liking. Uggghhh!

3. This third one is most familiar to me these days. I like to call it Betrayal. It's when he stabs you in the back because as both a male and a friend, he gets stuck between a rock and a hard place and chooses the hard place (yes homo). For instance, perhaps all the hanging out you do allows him to get close to one of your best female friends, and then when you and her get into your (inevitable) cat fights, he takes her side and you've been friends with him all your life and he's known that trick like 5 months and how dare he... Or maybe they keep their little relationship on the DL (from only you because they think you will feel left out and/or won't approve), and when you find out, you feel like you just lost your two best friends because they couldn't even trust you enough to tell you something like that or that they lied to you in the first place... Better still, you start dating one of his friends and when that guy cheats or lies to you, Mr. Male Friend not only knows about it and chooses to keep it from you, but he's in on it because he's trying so hard to put bros before hos that he forgets you were supposedly like a sister to him. Not to mention you're one of the reasons they started being friends in the first place. So now you feel like your so-called friend never gave a crap about you at all. And it breaks your heart to even think of him, much less talk to him or see him ever again.

If it's not one of these things, I guarantee it will be something else. Think about it, how many grown adults (like your parents' age) do you know with best friends of the opposite sex?? Probably the same as me... 0. The thing is, I guarantee you they did once, and they don't anymore. Because it doesn't work out.

The bottom line is, males and females just cannot be close friends. Okay, friends, yes. By that I mean talk every few months and rarely hang out and definitely don't know each other's deepest darkest secrets. But if you have a friend of the opposite sex that you consider one of your bestest friends, my advice is to run now and run fast. Don't wait for the inevitable. Because it only gets worse with age and time. And when it does happen, it will hurt so much more than you could ever imagine.

Trust me. I should know.

Spare some change

Okay, okay. In my defense, I didn't have a laptop cord for like 6 weeks throughout November and part of December. There were times I wanted to write, but I couldn't bare to sit at my desk in that cold computer room in the middle of the night just to blog to no one. I especially had some fun topics for post-election drizzle (fo shizzle). But I missed all that. And I feel like part of myself is missing, too.

Here goes it.

A friend recently (like 5 minutes ago) asked me what has changed in me in the past year since I started this blog. Looking back at my first entries, I realized what changed in me is the thing that made me who I was... what changed in me was the change in me.

Last year, I was becoming the person I had always wanted to be... I was in love with Jesus and I eventually loved myself as a result. I was working on being a good person and doing the right things, and I stood my ground and kept myself pure in many ways. It was a good road to be on. And I don't know if it was the trip to Uganda (or unfortunate companions) or the culture shock of coming back to this world, but something happened along the way (what used to be happy was sad...) and now I feel like I'm back at one.

What makes it so easy to go back, and so hard to move forward?

Is change not change no matter which direction?

Why is it that it took me 2 years to be "good" and only 2 months to get... ugly? It's like weight (a subject I know all too well). It could take you a month to gain back something it took a year to lose. Losing weight takes a lot of time, energy, and money. And so does losing bad habits. I haven't been able to do either since my last entry. And I'm just starting to understand why.

It's mostly our own fears that keep us from doing the right thing, but it has a bit to do with other people as well. Sometimes I think, well everyone already thinks I'm this way, and everyone's going to think it's fake if I try and change, so I may as well stay the same. But that's ridiculous. Why am I going to sacrifice my salvation so others won't think I'm fake? What will those people mean in the end anyway? I'm the only one who has to live for me, so what does it even matter?

We have to stop letting our fears get in the way of our blessings. If I know what I need to be, and I'm not that, then nothing's stopping me but myself. I have no obligation to that self-fulfilling prophecy to be whatever it is everyone says I am. Every day I get the chance to change into whomever I want to be. That's the beauty of being saved. My mistakes yesterday don't affect my chances to be better tomorrow.

You can be different... And if you're not Jesus, you probably should be different.

If you were waiting for some sign from God in order to change your life, let this be it. You don't have to be perfect in order to be better. You just have to be better.

--

I know this is a bit introspective but it's been awhile. Just had to get that off my chest. Bare with me.

Obama will not be President

It’s about time I start being real with myself: as much as I’d like to believe this country has learned from its 8-year mistake of Bush and 400-year mistake of racism, the truth is, unfortunately, they both still very much exist (if I had to choose one to disappear completely, it would be a tough choice).

What brought me to this devastating realization was not the assassination plans nor the Bible-huggers on tv nor even the bigots I encounter daily living in the South. No, those things never surprise me. The thing that caught me off guard, sadly, was the blatant discrimination that exists so very close to home—in my own family.

This might come as a surprise to you, especially given all my talk of black pride and black power lately. But there are members of my family that are perfectly willing and able to discriminate and stereotype against black people (aside from the fact that black people discriminate against other blacks all the time)… and unfortunately, as much as I or my mother would like to deny it… they do.

That’s not to say they all do. Perhaps not even most. But for those (family and non-family members alike) who are able to hide behind some other rationale for not voting for, if not flat out hating Barack Obama, let me clear some things up so that you can come out of the closet already.

1. Barack Obama is NOT a Muslim. In fact, like most of you, he is indeed a Christian. He was born to a Muslim (not-present) father and a non-religious mother. He chose Christianity. He wasn’t just born into it, barely practicing or believing it for himself. He grew up knowing many different beliefs, and in his twenties, he made the choice to become Christian. That speaks volumes about his beliefs. And furthermore, even if he were Muslim, why is it that important? To hate someone based on their religious beliefs… well that’s not very Christian at all, now is it?
2. Barack Obama is NOT the anti-Christ. And furthermore, that’s one of the silliest things I’ve ever heard. Here you have someone talking about hope, faith, and love… those three things the Christ himself spoke of. Here you have someone who wants to use his position to help the poor, to bring healthcare and jobs to the masses, to bring our great country out of this spiritual and economical turmoil we have undergone due to the past 8 years of bad leadership. To say he is the opposite of Christ is blasphemy itself. Come up with something better.
3. Barack Obama is NOT JUST BLACK. For goodness sake, his mother is white. The woman who raised him, taught him everything, and brought him up most likely to know little about his African heritage since his Dad was not in the picture. He’s no more black than he is white. Why is it that everyone only sees half of the picture? Open your eyes.
4. Barack Obama DOES NOT have significantly different platforms than most other Democrats. If anything, his are better. He wants affordable healthcare, lower taxes for the poor, creation of jobs for Americans in America, immigration reform, women’s rights, gay rights, and less breaks for the wealthy and big corporations. You know; the stuff that like 80% of our country needs. So if you supported either of the Clintons or Kerry or Gore, but don’t support Obama, you might want to ask yourself, honestly, why. Because it can’t be because of his politics.
5. Barack Obama is NOT off killing babies or marrying gay people. Unfortunately, in this country, you’re either for something or against it. Gay people should have rights. Point blank. If you don’t agree with the lifestyle, or if you think it’s an abomination, that’s your opinion. But if you’re going to vote based on this issue that has nothing to do with you and has NEVER hurt anyone, go ahead. It worked really well for us these past two elections. Why not a third? Mind you, abortion is wrong. Straight up. It’s murder. But giving women the right to choose is no different than giving killers access to guns under the second amendment. You’re not telling them to kill… they still have to make the choice to do so and deal with the consequences, be it in heaven or on earth. But you are giving them the choice, say, to be prepared under extenuating circumstances. We can’t help those who go a whole other route with it. People are going to find other ways to kill each other, just like women will find other ways to abort (hangers, for instance, are amazing alternatives).
6. Barack Obama is NOT the answer to all our problems. Not even close. Chances are, he’ll get in the white house and be dodging bullets the whole time. But the way he has motivated the young people in this country to get out and make changes… the way he has brought our country together despite our differences, and the way he inspires hope in a nation that has lost its faith… is the miracle in itself. We believe in democracy again. We believe in the power of hope and change. We believe in America… for the first time in a long time. And it didn’t take a national tragedy to do it. If he isn’t elected… it will do more damage to our nation than perhaps even a terrorist attack. Because it will cripple us at our weakest point. We may never believe again.
7. Barack Obama is NOT against the troops. Like most of us, however, he is against the war. Want to talk about murdering babies? How about all the children that have died as a result of this war on oil? Nothing good has come out of our presence in Iraq; we have wasted too many lives for nothing. Gas prices have tripled since Bush came to office, and here we are talking about gay marriage. Wake up. McCain wants to keep sending more troops to Iraq, when even Bush’s dumb ass finally got the picture and admitted we need to pull out. I think we can all agree that we should support our troops; we should support them by bringing them home.
8. Barack Obama has NOT been wishy-washy with his politics. McCain, on the other hand… wow. McCain went from being one of the most liberal Republicans in the Senate to now being a staunch conservative prick. I supported McCain in the past two elections back when he was real. He literally did a complete 180 for this election so he could get the Republicans back who hated him before. And for those who didn’t know anything about his politics before—well, that’s our collective amnesia working to benefit those in power once again.
9. Barack Obama is NOT perfect. Not by any means. He’s going to make mistakes just like any other President. He has less experience than other people, but we can all attest to the fact that quantity does not always mean quality. He will never live up to the expectations some people have for him. And like all Presidents, he will not be able to execute some, if not many of his promises. But one thing that will remain true is that he will not stop fighting for the common man. He will not take corporate bribes to support his own personal interest. He knows what it is to be a working class person in this country, and he has not forgotten from whence he came.
10. NOT VOTING AT ALL IS NOT BETTER THAN VOTING FOR OBAMA. And I wonder about the intelligence levels of individuals who seem to think so. By not voting, you are giving the power back to the politicians, and revoking it from yourself. You are surrendering your very existence in this country. You forfeit your ability to protest, be angered, or complain about anything that goes on over the next four years. Because if you do not vote, you did nothing to attempt to change your present situation. “In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.” -Martin Luther King. If you know the right thing to do and you don’t do it, you’re worst than those who do wrong, because they don’t know any better and you do.

The bottom line is this country is in despair. We are desperate for something new, something better. And the power is now in our hands. It’s time we put aside all our prejudices, our differences, and our fears, and start replacing them with love, tolerance, and understanding. It’s not enough just to say we don’t discriminate. It’s time we act upon it. And it’s not enough just to say we’re tired of our present situation. It’s time we change it.

You make the call.

You're a Nigga

That’s what my boys yelled when Jacob, who had never played Charades before, pulled his skully over his head, sagged his pants a bit, and pretended like he was rapping. The word we gave him was rapper. The word we heard, instead, was nigger.

Pause.

Rewind 24 hours. Push play. I was at the pool Sunday enjoying my day off and getting some African sun, when out of the blue, they busted out the speakers and started blasting hip hop. The first few songs… not so bad. Chris Brown, Keyshia Cole, my favorite African song, Love is Not a Crime (I’m bringing it back to the States, you know this). But then, we broke into the Lil Wayne, Ludacris, Fabolous, Jay-Z, Jermaine Dupree, etc., and I quickly realized that the uncut version of so many radio songs are completely inappropriate for public use—so much so, that I was becoming extremely uncomfortable listening to the words of the songs I knew so well. I kept thinking, all these people here, African and Western both, are looking at me in disgust because I am the ONLY black American at this pool and this is how everyone thinks we talk.

Nigga this, Nigga that. I ain’t never ran from a nigga, Nigga what, f* a nigga. Beat that nigga. Damn.

I suddenly realized why the week before, someone at the internet café asked me if one of my parents was a nigga. And in retrospect, I know why Jacob was thought to be imitating one. Here we are talking about white Americans not knowing any better but to use the words we use for each other. Wow. We have no idea what the world thinks of us. We have no idea that in Africa, people think the word for Black American ACTUALLY IS “Nigga.” We have no idea that the only way the rest of the world sees us is through movies and videos, in which we are gangsters, strippers, and drug dealers. We have no clue… that the knowledge we take for granted that what is seen on tv is not how it really is, is the exact representation of ourselves that the rest of the world views as reality. That to everyone else in this world… we’re just a bunch of niggers.

Pause.

Let that marinate for a minute.

If you knew that you were being called a nigger by everyone else in the world, would you continue to use that word in your daily language? Would you still support rappers that use the word in every sentence? Would you continue to watch films that display blacks… display YOU as a thug or a whore?

If your answer is yes, then maybe this isn’t for you. And furthermore, you should probably ask your parents or grandparents how they feel about that, and then ask yourself again.

If your answer is no, then walk with me for a minute.

The other day, I had a (Ugandan) friend tell me one of the most profound things I had never thought of before. He said that Africans, historically, are a lot like Jews in the Bible. Enslaved, plagued with war, disease, poverty, hunger, corruption, and death. In the end, he said, it was those who stood by their faith in God that were delivered to the promise land. “For us (Africans),” he explained, “the promise land we are awaiting will be heaven. But for black Americans,” he stopped, looked away, and swallowed the lump in his throat. “For black Americans, you are already in the promise land. You just don’t realize it.”

I was speechless.

Could it really be true? Could it be that God knew all along that America would be the place where blacks would eventually be delivered from desolation? What if 300 years ago, your ancestors’ ancestors were brought here in chains so that you could be free today? Every day since I’ve been here—every single day—I see something else that makes me thank God I was born in the US. But have I been so naïve to forget just how that came about? In order for me to be born into prosperity, free from disease, war, and enslavement, my great great great grandparents had to be shackled and chained. Just like the Jews in the Old Testament… only they knew all along where and why they were going.

We still don't realize where we've come from.

Because if we knew it… if we really understood how far we’ve come… we wouldn’t be getting tangled up in the words, images, and lifestyles that put us back in chains. We wouldn’t be taking advantage of the freedom our ancestors fought and died for. Instead, we would be actively erasing the word nigga from our collective vocabulary. We would be supporting images of prosperity, education, and pride. We would be giving back to our communities and helping others so that as a people, we might share this promise land. And we would not allow the distance we have yet to travel, keep us from recognizing how far we have come… keep us from recognizing that we are the delivered ones. We are God’s chosen people. And if everything we do and say do not represent Him, then everything He has done to bring us here was in vain.

Think about it.

Now push play.

Bringin' Beautiful Back

Today, I did an exercise with my kids (teenagers) to explore colors. We asked them to name their favorite color, name something that is that color, and tell how it makes them feel when they think of or see that color. To be honest, I fully expected nothing but blank stares from uninterested adolescents when we introduced this activity. The first group was able to name their favorite colors, but didn’t get much further into it than that (the blank stares kicked in). The most common colors, however, were black and brown, but they could not explain what they thought of or how they felt when hearing that color. The second group (my angels) jumped right into describing red, the color of blood, making them think of war and danger, or yellow, the color of sunshine, making them think of health and happiness, or white, the color of angels, making them think of peace and friendship. It was pretty amazing to hear all their ideas, and to see the smiles that emerged on their faces quickly after realizing they said something we thought was brilliant. But the thing that struck me the most was the amount of times I again heard the colors black and brown; only this time, it was used to describe their skin.

And what words do you think came to mind when they hear the word black?

Beauty. Life. Pride.

I didn’t realize those responses would affect me so much. Growing up in the US, we learn that black is the color of death, sin, and evil. The dictionary defines black as synonymous with all things dark and bad. And I was naïve enough to think that this was the definition pretty much across the board. White is good; black is bad. Brown is ugly and undesirable. I didn’t even know I had the choice to think something different. Something so simple as the meaning of colors—it took me 24 years and a trip all the way across the world to understand—I had the choice to define it myself.

“I like brown because it is the color of your (my) skin, and of the earth. It makes me think of beauty and life.” “I like black because it is the color of my (their) skin and of the (Ugandan) flag. It makes me think of beauty and pride for Africa.”

As many times as I’ve heard or even said “black is beautiful”, I’m not even sure that I believed it for myself. It’s just some cliché we’ve adapted as black Americans to raise our pride and self-awareness in a country that has taught us to hate even ourselves. But is it not false pride? Do we actually believe that the color black and the color brown are indeed beautiful and proud? In our minds, in your mind, what do these colors actually represent? Ask yourself truly, what do you think of when you think of the colors black and brown? Honestly, can you truthfully say that positive images of beauty and pride and life come to mind?

And if not, isn’t it time we change our minds?

Because I’ve decided to change mine.

I refuse to allow our racist society to dictate the way I define myself and the things that represent me anymore. From today forward, I’m taking back the control over my pride, my beauty, and my life. I’m bringing beautiful back… to black. Because somewhere between civil rights and cell phones, we forgot just how beautiful we were. We forgot that the colors black and brown belonged to us in the first place. That God had given us these colors as a birthright. And that the way we define them is a choice. OUR choice.

And I’ve already made mine.

Falling from Grace

Yesterday, I’m pretty sure I witnessed one of the greatest of God’s creations.

We went on a trip a few days ago to Masindi district in northwest Uganda to visit the first and largest national park in the country. Before going, we had to meet up at the camp site’s headquarters in Kampala to wait for our vehicle and get the other members in our party. So there was a picture of Murchison Falls on the wall, and I was like “Wow… we’re travelling all this way to see one little waterfall? I could have turned my shower on at home to see that.” So the first day, we saw some baboons and warthogs, hippos, and I’m like woot woot. The second day we went on a safari and saw some elephants, giraffes, crocodiles, and more hippos. We went on this 3 hour boat ride to the falls, and when we got there, I all but asked for my money back at the utter disappointment of it. I think even the picture looked better than the falls, which consisted of some water hitting some rocks in the distance. So yesterday, on the way home, we took a hike up the mountain to see the falls a bit closer. Still not impressed. Okay, a bit nicer, but come on. This place is on the top ten things to see before you die. And here I felt like this was some shit I could have created with a bucket and some rocks.

But then we went around the other side of the path, and got about 3 feet away from the falls. Right up to where the rivers collided and hit up against the mountains at such great speeds, it broke through granite rock and created about 4 to 5 rainbows all around it. And I literally stopped in my tracks, sat down to collect myself, and began to cry. I mean, I wasn’t sobbing like a baby or even tearing up all that much. But on the inside, I felt God right then and there, just wrap his arms around me and whisper in my ear the sweetest words of love I can’t even share.

Looking upon it, all I could think was, how could anyone deny that God exists? Nothing, no other power, could create such beauty and splendor. I remembered the day before, I said something along the lines of “I think the Taj Mahal or the pyramids should move up the list above this mess.” But as I was sitting there in complete and total amazement, I heard God tell me that nothing man has ever made could even compare to the wonders He has created on this earth. And it made me laugh… laugh that I was eating all the words I had been saying on the trip thus far. Laugh that the ten or fifteen minutes I spent staring at that waterfall was worth the time, money, and effort it took to get to that point. I laughed. Because all this time, I had been looking for God in Uganda.

And He was right there before my eyes all along.

It almost felt like, selfishly, it felt like God created that amazing display of His majesty so many years ago because He knew that at that moment, at that time, He would find me there. It made me think of His plans for me, and how I tend to try to control things or change things according to my own will, subconsciously thinking that I have to do things myself if I want them to happen. But how silly of me to think that a God who created the earth and the heavens with such magnificent detail, is incapable of accomplishing amazing things in my life and granting me all the desires of my heart. How naïve of me to assume that my plans are in any way better than His plans for me.

In the midst of all this, I thought about the things that I’ve had to witness thus far. The poverty, the injustice, the hunger, war, and despair in Uganda and in Africa as a whole. I thought about how all this time, I’ve been thinking why me? Why did I deserve to be born in a country where freedom is free, where war and hunger and poverty are the exception and not the rule, where clean air, water, and land were the bare necessity and not commodities? Why did I spend my childhood in the safety of my own home, surrounded by love and family and friends, instead of being abducted at the age of 8 to become a child soldier and be forced to kill others, be given as a sex slave, or be killed myself? Why did I dream of rainbows and gardens and unicorns, instead of having nightmares of witnessing my parents be murdered right before my eyes, or of being raped and baring children who would die of hunger or disease, or of the faces of those I was forced to kill?

I thought about how I had been questioning God and His will. How I had been wondering how the same God who delivered me from so much in life, could allow this to happen to people far more innocent and more deserving than myself. And I realized that all this introspection, this existential crisis I had been having here, was like trying to figure out how God created this waterfall. Trying to dissect every drop of water, instead of just admiring its beauty. When it’s not up to me to try and determine His will.

What I should be doing is trying to figure out where I fit in. What my place is—me, just a drop of water—which may seem insignificant, but actually serves as an integral role in God’s creation. And trusting that I might not understand it now, but that it is all part of His will, is the first step to discovering my place on this earth. I am so thankful for this gift from His grace.

“In life, for every question you have… the answer, you will find in nature, if you know where to look.” It’s a line from my favorite movie of all time, The Power of One.

I finally got my answer.

Maybe we're the ones who need to prove ourselves to Him

The second Chronicles of Narnia is even better than the first. The theme is quite resonating. Throughout the movie, the three older children have believed the words of the nation… that “Aslan” has abandoned Narnia and it’s up to the earthly kings to defend their people. They try time and again to take matters into their own hands, only to fail at every attempt. They even nearly seek the help of what can only be described as the devil himself who appears out of nowhere (Matthew 4), offering a victory over their enemies if they only pledge themselves to her (no comment on how the evil one is a woman). It is only the faith of the “little child” (Isaiah 11:6) that leads them finally to call on Aslan, who immediately gives them the victory, and forgives those who did not believe. I had forgotten how much these stories really are meant to remind us, both children and adults alike, that even the smallest faith can move mountains (Matthew 17:20) and that we are more than conquerors through Christ who loves us (Romans 8).

I apologize if I spoiled the movie for you, but it’s not like you didn’t know they were going to be victorious in the end anyway. It’s just that I had to give background in order to segway into this, my first entry in months (sorry).

Since I’ve been here in Uganda, it has been really hard for me to talk to God. I told myself that maybe He just lost track of me in all the travelling I’ve been doing. Or maybe that there is so much pain and suffering on this continent, my prayers are put on the backburner. I’m not talking about this in a superficial way, like I’m asking Him for things and not receiving them; I’m not saying bad things are happening, so therefore He must not be listening. I’m saying that usually when I pray, it’s like I can feel His presence all around me, and I know that He is listening. But here, for some reason, I pray and pray and it just feels like I’m alone. I’ve been here just begging Him to just show Himself to me; just show me that He is really there. Instead I just feel like I’m praying vain. But who would have thought that watching (the bootleg of) that children’s movie would change something in me?

“Maybe we’re the ones who need to prove ourselves to Him.” It was a line that the little girl told her brother when he asked why Aslan wouldn’t just show himself to them.

Crazy… I’ve never heard a movie line that so adequately describes my faith.

Here I am asking God to show Himself to me when how many times has He proven Himself in my lifetime? How can I proclaim that He is almighty and powerful, and with the same mouth profess that He is not listening every single time I call? It is not His presence on which my faith is based; it is His promise.

I find that in our culture especially, people refer to faith as some kind of therapeutic service. “Whatever works for you” I have heard time and again, even just yesterday. People think of God as just a means to an end, and if we can’t see Him, He must therefore not exist except in the minds of religious fanatics. But why are we passively waiting for some great miracle before we can acknowledge Him? Why do we think it’s up to God to prove His presence in our lives? Even in the worst circumstances, He gives us life, the sun, rainbows, nature, family (despite their faults), friends (ditto), and even a complete stranger who manages to say the just the right thing to get you through. How many times have you asked and received? How many times have you looked back on something you did not receive and suddenly understand why it was not given to you at that time? What more proof do you need? Why, instead, are we not attempting every day to make even the remotest fraction of an impact on His world that He has on ours? At what point do we stop making demands on God and start raising our own expectations? When will we realize that we’re the ones who should be proving ourselves to Him?

I started writing this blog yesterday and since then, I have received so many emails of encouragement from my family, friends, and small group (which are both). If I was looking for proof before, it is certainly clear to me now that when for whatever reason, God cannot come wrap His arms around me Himself, He sends His warriors to comfort and assure me that He may not come when I want Him to, but He’s always right on time.

Before I left, I told myself that I would use this time away from everything I know to truly discover who I am now that I have been changed. Perhaps God, who has carried me thus far, is now letting me stand on my own so that I might do just that. Perhaps if I look to my left, I will in fact see two sets of footprints in the sand. Perhaps… it’s not up to me to try to make sense of His will. It seems the only thing I am responsible for… is proving myself to Him.

…I’ll be around. Check back for weekly updates on my travels. For real this time!

I love you and miss you all!!

Meet the Blacks

Tyler Perry's new movie took black people back 50 years.

And I seem to be the only one that's royally pissed off about it.

Sure, I'm mad I spent $8 and 2 hours of my life that I will NEVER get back. And sure, I'm perterbed that in 2008, I have been exposed to a minstrel show with actual black people dancing around in black face. Indeed, I'm annoyed that it already grossed $33 million and it probably cost $3 million and a lot of destroyed careers to produce. But what I'm MOST pissed about is that I haven't heard ANYONE protesting, speaking, or marching about all the negative stereotypes, ignorant perpetuations, and flat out EMBARASSMENT Meet the Browns has caused the entire black community.

It took me a week and a half to recover from all the damage that movie did to my psyche and self worth as a black person, just to be able to write this blog that should have been written the minute I got home from RUNNING--not walking-- away from that movie. I couldn't get away fast enough and back to my home-- a place where black people are educated, full of pride and dignity, represent black people in a positive and intelligent way, and are likewise disgusted by the muzings of directors who will do anything-- including sell his soul to the devil-- for a box office hit. Tyler Perry, you disappoint me. Angela Bassett, what were you thinking? How do you go from Tina Turner to hood rat chick? Eat the cake, Anna Mae. Desgraciada.

Speaking of which, as if it weren't bad enough to destroy the entire black race with this movie, Tyler Perry had to go add in a ghetto, loud-mouthed, weed-smoking, violent, slorefully dressed LATINA hood rat that surely exemplifies everything I embody as a latin woman, as well. Thanks, Tyler. I appreciate how you've maken a mockery of everything that I am and displayed it for all the white people who happen stumble across your movie that we indeed are everything they think of us... and worse. Awesome job, queer (sorry, it slipped).

Black people need a manual. I'd be happy to write it in my tons of spare time that I do not have. I will call it "What black people do and do not need to be pissed the f*%& off about and other shit that may set us back from all the strides we've made away from the centuries of humiliation and oppression to which we were subjected, and also, why it's more of a disgrace for a BLACK person to do anything listed in this book than for a white person because white people don't know no better but we sure as hell DO!!!" Copyright on that title.

Why is it that Don Imus (his ass was wrong, also) can't call black women nappy headed hos, but Tyler Perry, who knows better, can have a scene in his movie where they go through a list of women and describe the TYPE of ho they were, ending with the characters' own MOTHER, calling her a nasty ho? And furthermore, why was I the only person in the theatre NOT laughing at that scene?

If a white person directed a movie about a ghetto black woman with three kids from three different dead beats, one of which is abusive, who finds out her own dead beat pimp/deacon father dies, and goes to BF Georgia for a funeral in which ignorant black people are actin' a damn fool IN church, all while her basketball-playin', dope-slingin' son gets whored by white agents and signs to the pros straight out of high school and buys a Cadillac Escalade with his newfound money and gets his family out the ghetto. Oh, and throw in a scene with an old woman in a high speed chase in Dekalb County, throwing bags of weed out the window and assaulting an officer, WHAT?!?!?! This country would have a fit. Even white people would be mad about that shit. They'd be like, damnit, after all the time I spend at work trying to convince black people that I'm not racist, I'm gonna have to start from square one after they see that movie.

So why the HELL is it okay for a black person to disgrace the black race, but no one else can?? F* that. It's NOT OKAY. We need a manual so black people would learn after the first time someone pulled this shit, that it is not acceptable. Especially coming from someone who has made so many strides in the RIGHT direction of portraying black Americans in a different and positive light. Why erase all the work you've done? Tranny (sorry, slipped again).

I'm pissed. And you should be, too. If you're black, DO NOT waste your money or time being offended by that whore of a movie, and spread the word FAST. If you're white, :::sigh:::, I'm sorry. I apologize for every EXTRA that participated in creating that catastrophe. Please don't think that movie represents the views and behavior of all, or even some black people. Just pretend they were all white people wearing black (or brown) face, because that's the ONLY way I walked out of that movie without committing suicide.

As for you, Tyler Perry. Shame on you.

In the meantime, I'll work on that manual...

To me, you're worth it

Oh, come on, you know it was only a matter of time before I snuck a movie line in here somewhere. Don't you know me at all??

But seriously, in light of recent (awesome) incidents in my life, I thought I'd share my opinions on a common misconception amongst young women, and even sometimes men, when you first start dating: this whole idea that when things are so good, something bad must be on the way.

You know you've thought it. Might even be thinking it right now.

The reason we allow ourselves to endulge in such wasteful thought processes is not because we actually think all people are screwed up and will show their "true colors" (what does that mean anyway; are we all wearing fake colors? Can my true color be darker, cuz it's winter and I'm lookin a little pale these days) in due time; in fact, this notion is really just a mask for our subconscious realities. When actually, the thing that we really fear is that WE are not worth someone so great.

And that's just sad.

Because in the meantime, while we're putting up these walls, lowering our standards, and broadcasting our negative expectations, we are merely setting ourselves up for failure. It's called a self-fulfilling prophecy. If you assume someone is going to mess up, they'll do it just to prove you right. And honestly... what do we get out of knowing we were right, anyway? Does it feel ANY better to have your heart ripped out, just because you knew it was coming all along?? Allow me to answer that for you: no. It doesn't. It hurts just as bad. In fact, sometimes it hurts worse cuz your dumb ass knew it was coming all along, and stayed with that person anyway. So maybe we're all better off being blind optimists. At least, if they hurt us, we can say we never saw it coming... And if they don't hurt us, we're not cheering them on to do so in the meantime.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not saying just fall in love with everyone you meet. I mean, clearly, if there are red flags going up all over the place, and if your gut is telling you they're shady, you should probably go with your gut. But honestly, if someone is just right in every way, if they seem to call right when you want them to call, do exactly what you want them to do, like you just as much as you like them, you know... all the good stuff... Don't sell yourself short by assuming it's all too good to be true. Ever think they just might be thinking the same about you?? Ever think YOU might be too good to be true, too?

And why shouldn't you be? You're awesome. God made you in His image, which means you're kind, loving, intelligent, beautiful, and perfect in every way for someone out there... And if you happen to find them, don't go screwing it all up with your own insecurities. YOU ARE WORTH someone who treats you right, takes care of you, loves you for who you are, and trusts you with all their heart. THEY ARE WORTH you. And even if they're not, even if they end up being something different altogether... You can't allow the fear of losing keep you from playing the game. All things happen according to His will, so if it doesn't work, it will only mean that something better is out there for you.

Furthermore, you can walk away knowing that you gave it your all and didn't hold back. You can walk away knowing there is nothing you could have done differently that might have changed the outcome. You can walk away with your integrity. And that is worth so much more than being right.

Just take a chance. You never know how absolutely *perfect* something could turn out to be... You never know... it might just be worth it.

Cuz to me, you're worth it. ;)

True Fasting

So, as some of you know, I took my Lenten season fast to new heights this year. After talking with a good friend about active vs. passive fasting, I decided to go balls to the walls (probably not a good metaphor here), and take my spirituality to a whole new level. So during this new and improved fast, God has been really good to me, and has shown me all kinds of amazing things I would have never seen otherwise. I'd like to share some of that goodness with you.

Aside from recently aqcuired giddiness (assisted by a bittersweet end to my dating fast), God has given me a lot of peace of mind since my last (angry) post (sorry about that). I re-discovered that being happy with myself has nothing to do with the words or actions of others, and that maybe the problem I had with my "friends" was actually one that could be addressed within ME. It truly takes a bigger person to admit that. I am happy to oblidge.

Also, I have found that joining a small group at church, despite many years of resistance, has truly enlightened me and given me yet another reason for inner peace. I know there are people praying for me out there, I know I am held accountable for my actions by some very special individuals, I have people fasting with me (for once!), and most of all, as simple as it may sound, I know there's someone to sit with at church, so I have no excuse not to go!! You'd be surprised how important that can be. Motivation is essential in all aspects of life.

Furthermore, creating and leading a Christian group at RSPH has been a blessing in so many ways. I finally brought up GOD in class for the first time, and I felt good about it. I didn't feel like I was going to be attacked or ridiculed for my religious beliefs, and I knew that someone had my back because I recognized some people from the group in my class. It felt good just to say it out loud. I felt like I was coming out of the closet as a Christian. In fact, every day I feel more and more like I'm getting comfortable with being the "C" word. And I can't even believe I was ashamed or afraid in the first place. In fact, I can't believe we as a culture have been so afraid of the "C" word. It is truly as if Christianity is equivalent to Intollerance in our society, so much so that Christians fear offending people just by being who they are.

Sometimes, I understand white guilt. I understand feeling like as a majority, you have to be ashamed of your heritage and attempt to make up for others' mistakes by overcompensating and hiding in the shadows.

Allow me to be the first black person to say-- being white really sucks. I hate the feeling of having to hide or suppress my pride of being a majority. And I don't want to live that way anymore. I'm not GOING to live that way anymore. And neither should anyone else.

All this to say, I'm sorry for not posting in such a long time. School and work got me pretty tied up, but I haven't forgotten about you. Furthermore, I will be fasting until Easter, and what I know about fasting is that it allows you to reach new heights with your relationship with God and His ability to answer prayers if you're willing to make the sacrifice. So if any of you need prayer right now, PLEASE don't hesitate to ask. One thing I know is that prayer changes things; changes people.

I, for one, will never be the same.

True Fasting:

http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?book_id=29&chapter=58&version=31

NOT does not mean CAN'T

Let's forget about my political/religious/social platform for a minute. Something has been on my mind lately that I need to get out somewhere, and why have a blog if I can't put my personal feelings here, too, right? Right. Thanks.

Why do females really think they're so damn special?? I mean, this is hard without being too specific but really... I'm so tired of some of my female friends thinking they're the only ones going through what they're going through, or who do what they do. I can't even verbalize my frustration. It's not all my friends; honesly, I have some female friends who really do got it like that but don't feel the need to talk about it. But then there's the ones who say things like "It's different for me because I have men trying to get with me all the time," or "It's different for me because I'm so nice it's hard for me to turn men down," or "My situation is different because I'm not that pressed over him." Or my favorite... "You don't know how I feel because you've never been in this situation before." Have you ever heard any of that out someone's mouth? IT'S ALL A LIE!

What are you trying to say exactly, that because I'm not dating anyone, it means men aren't approaching me just as much as you? Give me a break. Do you really see yourself as that much more attractive than me? Because you're NOT. And even if men weren't trying to get at me, it would probably be because I don't put myself out there like I want every man I meet.

And are you trying to say you're nice like I'm MEAN? I'm not mean honey, I'm just not weak. Not being able to tell men no is not a kindness; it's a weakness.

And you ARE that pressed over him, if you weren't you wouldn't be talking about him all the time/wasting your time with him/stalking him/calling him/telling everyone you're his "favorite girl"/whatever.

And PLEASE child, we have ALL been there. You are not the only woman who has ever been stuck on a man or dating several men at once or catching feelings for someone with a girlfriend or so lonely you're dating losers or helpless over some idiot who treats you like crap or putting some man before God. We have ALL been there once or twice and those of us who made those mistakes are exactly the ones who CAN give you advice; so stop saying "You act like you weren't this way with whatshisface" because I WAS and I MOVED ON which is EXACTLY why I know you can do better.

Furthermore, have you ever thought about the fact that you might be offending people with all your talk about it being "different for me because..."? "Different" implies that I am the opposite of whatever comes after the "because". No, I'm not dating. But that doesn't mean I've never dated anyone before. No, I'm not having sex. But let's not forget that I was not always abstinent. No, I don't believe in cheating or having an affair with someone who's in a relationship. But that doesn't mean I haven't been that girl before. No, I don't have a problem telling people "no." But that doesn't mean I haven't been weak before. And NO, I AM NOT IN AN UNHEALTHY RELATIONSHIP WITH A MAN WHO LIES TO ME AND TREATS ME LIKE SHIT BUT LET'S NOT FORGET I WAS THERE FOR 3 LONG YEARS!!!!!!!

Do you really think you're so special???? Get over yourself.

I CHOSE this lifestyle. It's not some default cuz I can't get no man. I CHOOSE to be alone; that doesn't mean I'm not happy or that I can't waste my time with someone the way you do. Stop trying to play me like "I'M NOT" is code for "I CAN'T". Cuz if I wanted to be like you (and like I was before), I would. I CHOOSE not to.

And if you could see the view from here, you would make that choice, too.

Christians need a new name

Or maybe we can keep our name, and those other people can change theirs.

Allow me to elaborate...

Have you ever heard a Jewish person say they're Jewish by heritage but not by faith? Or contrarily, a Sammy Davis, Jr. or Charlotte from Sex & the City who's Jewish by faith, but not by culture.

Well I think we need to differentiate those of us who believe in Jesus Christ and accept Him as our personal Savior, and those who were born into the Christian heritage, but are not necessarily practicing Christians themselves.

Because Cultural Christians, over the years, are truly giving Christianity a bad name... That name is Hypocrite.

I arrived at this epiphany when I was befriended by someone on Facebook whose name I didn't recognize. I looked at his profile to try to see if I knew him, and everything "about him" was cursing and f*cking b*tches and h*es and n*ggas. It wasn't just a few words, either. I mean, I certainly don't want to be the pot calling the kettle a n*gga. But this was above and beyond; enough for me to think, wow... Why in the world would someone want to represent himself in such a disgraceful way? Then I scrolled back up curiously to glance at something I often overlook in someone's profile. "Religion: Christian". Yeah. Cultural Christian.

But that's just a small example of a Cultural Christian. Have you ever noticed that the rappers and singers who become successful promoting drugs, alcohol, sex, violence, and all forms of sin to young people, will always thank God on their album notes or upon receiving the Grammy? I mean, it's one thing to be a sinner; we all fall short. But to glorify sin, to encourage impressionable young people to follow your immoral lead... and then to attribute your vile successes to God, as if He supports your choices, or as if it just dissolves the sin to acknowledge Him... To commercialize Christianity that way. Just screams hypocricy. Cultural Christianity... it needs a new name.

It's not to say Cultural Christians don't believe in God and Jesus Christ; in fact, most of them probably do. It's just that believing in God and Jesus Christ isn't the only definition of Christianity. Striving to be Christ-like, seeking forgiveness, and loving one's neighbor are just a minimum. Of course we don't all get there at the same time... But if you're not there yet, please. Do the rest of us a favor and stop denigrating the Christian name. I'm sure that God you keep referring to doesn't appreciate it any more than I do.

Let's review.

The Klu Klux Klan is a "Christian" organization. Nazis were "Christians." Adolph Hitler, Fidel Castro, Benito Mussolini... Roman Catholic (Christians). Slave owners, yep, believers in Jesus. Our great nation's President... (sigh) you get the point. Cultural Christians. I think we have tarnished the name of Christ long enough...

It's time to get a new one.

Am I destined to marry a prude?

I've been thinking about this for some time.

I'm celibate, right. And because I plan on waiting (again) until marriage, it's highly likely that the man I'm going to marry is going to be on the same track, or else it won't really work out. So if he's willing to wait, he's either gonna have to be gay (and as we've discussed, I've had enough gay boyfriends for a lifetime so I'll pass) or a devout Christian like myself. Which leads me to my dilemma...

Can a good Christian boy also be a freak?

It's a reasonable concern. I mean, most serious Christian guys I meet view sex as some kind of dirty sin, something that one should only take part in for reproductive purposes. Okay, that might be an exaggeration, but seriously... Generally speaking, if a guy has a really dirty mind, he's usually already acting upon it. So those who are not participating, I can only assume, either do not have, or are relentlessly supressing the freak within.

I know what you're thinking. If a woman (me for instance) can be a virgin or a born-again virgin, and a closet freak (to emerge from the proverbian wardrobe only when wed), why can't a guy? Well I'll tell you why. Because men are sexual beings. Their nature is to spread their seed and it's exponentially more difficult (on average) for a man to control his sexual urges than a woman. So if he's not sexually active, it must mean that he's on the lower end of the spectrum of inner sexual desire. Now, of course there are exceptions to every rule, but in general, I think this is true. The more spiritually devout a man is, the less likely he is to be sexually uninhibited, as the two are fundamentally conflicting. Which leads me to my quandary. My attraction to good guys just might be my ultimate sexual demise.

And that really sucks.

Let's face it, in my sexually active days (how long ago they were indeed), I liked a little... fun (Keepin' it PG-13 in the '08). And the only "God-fearing" man I ever dated used to look at me like I was crazy when I would share with him some fantasy or desire that the average guy (and my other exes) would melt over. Sure, he would reluctantly adhere after a little convincing, but he never truly got into it like I wanted him to, which made it worse than not "spicing it up" at all. I thought it was just him, but come to think about it, it might actually have been his mental association of sexual deviance to religious immorality (which thanks to my highly inappropriate mother, I never made that connection).

So basically, I might be waiting 5 or more years for a lifetime of boring sex. And that makes me want to cry. I mean seriously, I have always looked forward to getting married and having lots of kinky, wild, public, role-playing, third party, swinger, videotaped, tied up, s&m, exhibitionist, ridiculously crazy, freaky sex. Damnit I waited for it, I deserve it. But if my husband isn't into that kind of stuff, I just might be counting cracks on the ceiling for the rest of my sexually active life. And there's no way to sample the product without breaking my vow of abstinence, so basically I'm just screwed (or not screwed, actually).

So when it comes down to it, if I meet someone who loves God, loves me, takes care of me, gives me lots of babies, never lies or cheats, is a good father and a good husband... but is bad in bed... Will I still be satisfied? Are sex and happiness mutually exclusive? At the end of the day, I hope I don't have to think about this and that I'm blessed with a good Christian man who also happens to be a freak. But in the event that I can only have the former and not the latter, I wonder...

Is bad sex a trade-off for a good life?

Homophobia is killing Negroes

I read a disturbing article today at work.

It stated that though we make up only 13% of the population, African Americans make up 49% of new HIV/AIDS cases in the United States. It also reported that about half of black men with HIV contracted the disease through homosexual contact. Meanwhile, 3/4 of black women with HIV contracted it through heterosexual contact. Now, I'm no statistics major (ok, fine I am), but those numbers just don't seem to add up. The only thing I can come up with is that despite America's best efforts to reduce the high HIV and STD rates in the black community to minorities engaging in more high-risk sexual behavior and intraveneous drug use (which actually is emperically INCORRECT), the reality is, infact, that homophobia is killing black people.

Still not convinced? Let's just think about this a bit. Homosexuality is without a doubt, a lot less accepted in minority communities than in mainstream (white) culture. Sure, there's that one guy who does hair or dresses in drag and calls himself "Miss Jay" that we generally acknowledge is a fruitcake. But when it comes to the average, deep voice, no-swishin', no-lisping, masculine prototypical black man, we just don't want to admit to ourselves that there's a possibility (about 1 in 12 chance to be exact) that he might actually like to take it up the rear. Whether it be our deep ties to Christianity (I'm still looking for that commandment, thou shall not be queer), our general reluctance toward the discussion of sexuality and sexual behavior, or simply our sinful pride, we as a people make it extremely hard for homosexual men to be openly gay in the black community.

So what do gay black men do? They have girlfriends, get married, have children, live a normal life in the public eye, all while satisfying their general inclination toward the male sex in private (You know I wanted to be more explicit but it's 2008). Meanwhile, they're spreading a disease that originated in the gay community (no offense queers, but it's true) to now be a black epidemic.

And it's all our fault.

Ok, fine. Black men also need to take responsibility for their careless behavior and get tested, be aware of their status, and be honest about their sexuality. But we as a community also need to make some changes. We need to stop being so closed-minded about homosexuality and start being more open about sex in general. Because not talking about it doesn't make it go away. Infact, it just means we're not doing anything about it and allowing diseases like HIV, gonorrhea, chlamydia, and genital herpes (all of which blacks have the highest rates) to infest our community.

And frankly, why do we even care? What people do in the privacy of their homes is their damn business. I have a lot to fix about myself in order to get into heaven; I don't have time to be worried about anyone else.

This is an easy fix to a cataclysmic problem.

And furthermore, everyone needs to get tested; not just homos. Fear of testing positive is a pathetic excuse for not protecting yourself and everyone else. PERIOD.

By the way, if any of my exes (none in particular) is reading this and feels inspired to come out of the closet, I will support you and love you regardless. :) :)

All my friends are bastards...

And most of my siblings are, too.

It's sad, but true. Most of my friends and siblings either don't know, or spent most of their childhood with negligent or non-existent fathers.

And I think it's the downfall of our society.

Not to say bastards are always messed up. Or that those of us with fathers have it all good (my father's other daughter, for example, tops the list of screw-ups). I'm just saying... I can think of a lot of people who seem to find trouble everywhere they go, and most of them, coincidentally, are fatherless.

Allow me to introduce exhibit A: my friend, we will call her Nameless. Nameless knew her father growing up; infact, he practically lived up the street. But let's face it, he was... careless. Without going into too much detail, we'll just say he always found some way to screw things up. Nameless' mom did the best she could as a single parent, but a girl needs a father, if anything just to tell her he loves her and she's beautiful so she doesn't go looking for it elsewhere when she grows up. We were already grown by the time Nameless' dad got his act together. And while he's cool now, the damage has already been done.

Nameless has pretty much spent the past 4 or so years, dealing with the scum of the earth... we'll call him Peanut Butter & Jelly. PB&J is synonymous with, I dunno, the first thought that comes to my mind is that gum/trash mixture that gets stuck on the bottom of your shoe, that it seems like the more you try to remove it, the messier it gets, and eventually you figure it's better just to cut off your foot than to spend another second dealing with that mess. Yes, that's Peanut Butter & Jelly. Anyways, no matter what he does, no matter how many times she catches him with another woman, or two, or three, she just keeps going back to him. And the only explanation for this masochism I can come up with is that she really doesn't think highly enough of herself to believe she actually deserves better than the scum of the earth. Which is sad. Because Nameless is beautiful, intelligent, loving, and kind. She deserves eons more than him. She could saw her entire leg off and still be better off.

But the bastards... they never know their own worth.

Nameless is just one example. Every time I see a woman in some degrading music video, porno, prostitute, crackhead, or in an emotionally or physically abusive relationship... Every man I see dealing drugs, in jail, cracked out, a drop out, or emotionally or physically abusing women, I think... Bastard.

It's a shame. Single mothers, I got nothing but love for what you do. Shoot, I might even end up a single mother one day, too. But the truth is, children need their fathers. The best single mother in the world still doesn't compare to a stable two-parent environment. Men need to step up. People are screwed up enough as it is to go adding to it by being a sperm donor.

Man up and be a father.

And to those of you who are already bastards... please, WAKE UP. Realize your worth. Men and women, don't let your sperm donor dictate what you become in life. Be better than him. The best way to pay him back for all he's done to hurt you is to do just fine without him...

You most of all, Nameless.

Nakupenda Kenya

This wasn't supposed to be my first post. I was going to talk about why I'm doing this, what I hope to gain, something about me, my hopes, my dreams, I dunno. But all that's on my mind these days is Kenya.



It's not like everything else. I mean, you hear about Rwanda, Sudan, Liberia, everything, and you can just look and go "Oh, how sad. We should do something about it." But Kenya is the only place I want to just jump out of my skin. It is truly the most beautiful country with the most amazing people I've ever been on the planet. And the fact that this is happening there... it just takes the wind out of me. And what's worse, I haven't heard from anyone. I've sent emails, instant messages, texts... No one has responded. I have friends in Eldoret, where the church was burned, and Nairobi... Seeing the pictures on the news, looking at places I've been in flames or with people lying dead on the ground. In my heart, I think I'm looking for my friends...


I know what you're thinking, 300 people died, big deal. What's the probability it's someone you know? But that's not even what scares me. It's the fact that this is how it always starts. A few revolts over some election gone awry, a burned church in a country that holds religion and God above all... What's next? 300,000 lives? 2 million displaced? How long will this go on? When will it be time to start worrying about my friends? When will it be okay for me to look through pictures of the dead and displaced for a familiar face? When will it be okay for me to cry for a country, for a people I love so much??

Because it's NOT just news. It's NEVER JUST NEWS. These are real people...

I wrote out this wonderfully long speech about how we need to do something about it and stop separating ourselves from things that are far away, but the truth is, that's not helping either...

The truth is, all we can do is sit and wait. For an update, a death toll, a news break...

Just do me this one favor, just realize... when you're looking at those numbers, those pictures, that news report, just realize... that's somebody's mother, sister, husband, brother, child...

Those people are real people. And we are NOT exempt. Tragedies like this don't just happen in Africa; revolutions and uprisings can happen anywhere. Don't take your blessings for granted. Being able to walk around freely in your country and not have to worry about men and children with guns and machetes, you are already so very blessed.


We all come from Africa. If God is the Father, she is our mother.

Kenya, salama ya kuonana. Nakupenda sana, na natamani ungekuwepo hapa mama Africa.