My Blackness Deserves No Explanation

By: Elise R. Sampson

Hey America—
Do me a favor
Don’t ask me to explain my blackness.
Not my hair,
Not my skin,
Not my intelligence nor anything else that comes from within.
Within this skin.
Beautiful brown pecan with a kiss from the summer sun
Pale as the wood lining my kitchen cabinets when the summer’s gone
I love myself but you don’t want to see me happy
Much like that ex that I no longer miss
yet he still calls…
Each one after him reminds me that my decision making is still flawed,
maybe even more than it was before him
Or maybe it’s the beautiful black men on my timeline paired with foreign women and cars that makes me feel null
Despite the trickery that social media and propaganda might try to play on me
Maya Angelou’s “Still I rise”, gives me strength when I look at these thighs or my big, round, deep brown eyes. As beautiful as my Black is, has Black become synonymous with demise?
Is my Blackness something I should hide?

I’m living scared,
Fighting everyday not to piss off some emasculated, white fool with a gun and badge or a Becky who absolutely will not shop in the same establishments as a nigger gal.
I pray and tithe
I pay taxes
I vote in every election
I attend city council and school board meetings
I donate to Black Lives Matter
I paint murals til my hands bleed
I’ve educated peers and professors on why our hair is different
I make sure to use my white girl voice on the phone
I tell my nieces and nephews that they are beautiful in their Black skin
I post novels about injustice on my timeline til I’m blue in the face, and no matter how Black I project myself to be, everyday I wake up to nooses, gunshots, knees on necks, unlawful search and seizures, murderers maintaining their jobs and no charges being filed.
Where is the change Sam Cooke told us was coming?

I just knew that if I prayed a little harder, went to that rally, made myself a token Black girl in college and at my job then the murders would cease.
Surely there are millions of Black girls and boys just like me!
We don’t walk around causing trouble but we know who and whose we are, you know the type.
Is there no further contribution that I can make to ease this worldly pain?

Too many questions remain unanswered.

While there is no ETA on the true reparations of “America’s original sin”, I stand tall knowing that my Blackness is dope, she’s stunning, unparalleled, unforgettable, a vision crafted by God himself and she stands out where you would fit in.
So America, do me a favor…
Don’t ask me about my blackness or the black experience because the truth is that you don’t really want to hear it.

(Mis)Step & Repeat: The Imbalance of the Work-Life Balance

I don’t know if I love time or hate it. I believe I must honor it, but I can’t say I revere it. It’s a complex relationship—one in which I feel simultaneously in control and out of control. Can I get a witness?

The concept of borrowing time is weird to me. I get it...but at the same time I don’t. Borrowing time means it must be repaid. The phrase itself gives the ominous realization that something outside of our control will inevitably occur; even if you have a few stolen moments to yourself, your impending fate was only delayed. Handle your business. Get your house in order. It’s about to go down.

Ultimately, I see time as a resource. Each day I live I have endless access to time, however, it is only in that moment.

I can’t keep it.

I can’t hold it. 

I can’t store it in a mason jar and save it for later. 

I must use it right then and there otherwise I lose it. The idea of losing time sucks. It sucks big.

I’m always aware of time. I’m aware of the clock ticks even when I don’t hear them. I’m aware that use of time in one area often negates its use in others. That shit makes me anxious. 

In fact, it keeps me up some nights.

It disrupts my zzzzz’s.

And that’s just downright disrespectful.

“I’m right on time.”

“God has me.”

“Everything works together for my good.” 

These and other go-to phrases become my lullaby in those moments when I must corral my thoughts and soothe myself back to a place of slumber.

Then the alarm sounds.

I set the coffee pot, brush my teeth...

Wash, rinse, and repeat.

Time frustrates me most when I’m trying to achieve a work-life balance. 

Ah...the dreaded work-life balance convo.

We speak of this phenomenon in a way that capitalizes on ideas of making more time through schedule reconfigurations and prioritization lists. 

We place demands on supposed free time and slate bubble baths in between practices and other obligations.

We demand paused thoughts and actions for centering, regrouping, and brunch.

We’re supposed to take time, regaining some semblance of control in what we do, where we do it and with whom.

We aim for more robust, fruitful, and well-rounded schedules, seizing opportunities for what’s important.

But if we’re being honest, it’s all important. Right?

Sweeping is a mindless chore until one steps on something, piercing the skin.

Laundry is mundane until one’s out of clean skivvies or clean towels.

The drive-thru is only so appropriate for scoring dinner during the week until those favorite pants no longer fit.

So how do I determine where and how to spend my time when it all matters?

I regard updating my resume as highly as I do my sumo squats.

I feel the internal pressure to write a new blog post as deeply as I do to submit a poem.

When it all matters most (in its own respective category, of course) how am I to relinquish parts of it so I am not relinquishing myself?  My goals? My dreams?

How Sway?!

Since I’ve had this exchange with several people, I propose that work-life balance as we know it is bull. Not one person has been able to achieve the never-falling cosmic orbit in which everything suspends overhead in perfect harmony, freeing the phalanges to hold close only those things held dearest.

The pursuit is exhausting and if you’re whooped trying to relax it’s time to dismantle the machine.

Seriously, how am I to succeed when my professional life systematically creates—sometimes necessitates—a dominant space of imbalance?

Think about it: many of us spend 5 out of 7 days at work or performing some work-based activity: night-before prep, next day alarm, the dressing, the commute/breakfast run, the day, the commute home, the decompressing. Stuff in there a workout, a social outing, counseling, a class or homework and before you know it the alarm has sounded. Here we are again with the wash, rinse and repeat!

5/7… that’s over 70% of our week (hold your tongues math people and ride this thought wave with me for a bit).

This leaves 2 out of 7 days of the week for non-work based activities; what am I doing with my less than 30%? 

• Sleeping in (rarely).

• Getting an oil change.

• Powering through an untimed workout where I can get all my sets in.

• Scratching my scalp.

• Finally replying to the Marco Polo my homegirl left the week prior.

• Attending TLWM (I love this church). 

• Scouting the city for new fun spots.

• Having a dinner with my boo that’s not infringed upon by our curfew (“we have to work in the morning” will shut a good time down, won’t it?)

My attempts to do the “it” that matters to me in the moment have created a practice in which I stuff bits of my personal and creative life into the unclaimed hours of my professional life:

• I grocery shop, edit my post or wash a load of clothes during my lunch hour.

• I use my car rides to schedule doctor appointments, pay bills, or make catch-up calls to framily.

• I peruse JoAnn’s website for inspiration during my breaks.

Did I mention I’m growing a business? (that calls for early AM late PM stuffing)

I’m active within my tribe. (more stuffing)

Long story short I’ve allowed my strategic self to organize my creative self and schedule my hours like prescription dosages.

Sometimes, I’m exhausted just by the planning phase alone. By nightfall I’m ready to power down although I’m pressured to complete “it” before bed.  But I don’t feel like doing the “it” I’m supposed to do in order to move the needle along. 

Trying to balance this work-life road is less like a pathway and more like a beam. I’m knock-kneed; balance beams and I have our own relationship and you mean to tell me this obstacle is timed??

What would happen if I let go? What if I released myself from the pressure of trying to do it all by the deadline?  How will I ensure I’ll fall safely onto the padded mat below?

Is there a mat?  There is a mat, isn’t there?

Of course, there is. It’s called Grace.

Now let’s be clear: I don’t have the answers.

I cannot instruct you on how to carry your load in a way that won’t break your back. What I can share is what I’m learning...

I’m learning that I can only do up to (and not exceeding) two things good at the same time. Everything else must wait.

I’m accepting that as strong as I am, God is stronger and is the only one between the two of us that can be omnipresent.

I’m respecting that I must focus my attention on my one or--up to but not exceeding—two things and leave everything else in “pending” status.

I’m relinquishing control of time as I am not its author or finisher.

I’m determined to enjoy my time at whatever I’m doing cause that’s all the time I have guaranteed. 

What about you? Where are you with this work-life thing? Share below.

Love always.

"The Anchor": CORE WORK PT. 2

Image via Heavenly Treasures

I’m jealous. 

...not every day, but on more occasions than I care to count. The “of whom” or “of what” is irrelevant because the root of my issue is the mentality of the woman in the mirror. That’s right, it’s my personal perception. When I see myself as “less than,” I regard everything I produce--including gifts, contributions, and even my presence--as insufficient. I then consider any acknowledgement of my greatness as a nicety, or pity-filled concession. You see, if an external truth doesn’t abide by an internal one, it’s ineffective.

I worked through a year-long therapy stint during my time in DC to uncover the origin of this problematic root. Back then, I recognized it’s fruit as chronic fear especially when it came to writing my dissertation.  That’s right, the same root issue can produce fruit in different forms. Nevertheless, I identified various occurrences in which I or others said or did something to reinforce this ideology of insufficiency. The origin of it, however, was unfounded. What caused my belief system? It was plaguing because no matter how far I delved into the past of “who said or did what when,” countless others spoke life into me or countered this ideology in other ways. So why was this falsity imbedded in my psyche as the truth, the rule, the law? Because I believed it. Me. No more, no less. I’m accountable for it.

When I decided to make my spiritual core my 2019 focus, my purpose was to fortify a SOP (standard operational procedure) within that would hold me steady. When answering the dreaded “who am I” question, my run-down was a list of applicable nouns mainly steeped in relationships with other people.  It was also connected to my ministerial gifts. When the “who” is connected to the “what” it became a bit tricky because it became performance-based behavior. 

I knew I needed an anchor. 

By definition, an anchor prevents drifting due to wind or currents. When the circumstances of life changed, or I no longer performed to my (or others’) expectations, what then would I hold on to as my immovable anchor? What would I believe about myself that would keep me from shifting and swaying when life did what life does?

I knew I needed to get to the root of my issues, eff the origin. In order to deal with it I needed to employ the tools in my arsenal and get to work.  Rather than turn my attention to the outside world, however, I needed to look inward and own myself.  I needed to accept my whole self (likes and dislikes). Those things I did not enjoy, I needed to know I had the power to change. Those things I loved, I needed to swim ocean-wide into them. I required a privatized self-acceptance that would supersede any public condemnation or adoration.

Addressing the root issue of this “less than” personal perception would extinguish the fruit of performance-based anxiety. It would extinguish the fruit of comparison. It would extinguish the fruit of jealousy.  The work is ongoing, and (at times) it’s painful. The pain, however, is a necessary one...like applying isopropyl alcohol to a wound. There’s no shame or condemnation in dealing with your root issues. Go ahead! Get your whole self together so you can thrive as your most optimal self. This kind of work is not mathematical; its spiritual, it’s mental and it’s physical. Give yourself the grace and encouragement to transform any ramshackle mindset to one of redemption.

“The Arsenal: CORE WORK PT. 1

Image via Google

I DEDICATED 2019 TO STRENGTHENING MY CORE…MY SPIRITUAL CORE."

I’ve practiced Pilates consistently since July 2018. There’s an ongoing beef between planks and me, but nevertheless through this practice I’ve realized how essential my core is to everything. This includes my posture, my stride, my balance, etc. No matter how difficult a session is, our instructor Suzanne The Great reminds us: “you’re getting stronger.” Although I don’t feel it in the moment, it’s realized later as I attempt other exercises. I’ve noticed, too, my spiritual life is the same way—though I may not feel it sometimes, I know I am growing spiritually.

Just as I’ve committed to strengthening my physical core, I’ve recognized the importance of strengthening other parts me as well. Part of my holistic development includes strengthening my emotional intelligence, and with that, my spiritual life. I learned years ago the value of building a spiritual arsenal. Therefore, I dedicated 2019 to strengthening my core—my spiritual core—through building my spiritual arsenal. Like a physical arsenal, the spiritual arsenal contains ammunition for defense. Unlike a physical arsenal, the spiritual arsenal is also used to edify, rebuild, and uplift. It gives you the tools to encourage yourself when motivation flees, and purpose isn’t as memorable.

Below are a list of resources I’m using to build my arsenal in this season:

• Prayer (talking to God)

• Confessions to my close, intimate circle

• Devotionals

• Yoga

• Online sermons

• Meditation (Exercising Mindfulness)

• Disconnecting from Social Media

• Journaling

• Breathing Exercises

• Minding my words—speaking negatively only enhances negativity

• Reading my go-to Scriptures aloud

• Quality time—whether it’s with myself or with someone else I love

How do you build yourself up? Share your tools and tactics in the comments section!

This post was written by Davia Crutchfield (@Dr.DaviaJnl on Instagram). Visit her page and share your thoughts on this post using #CoreWork.