Note to self #726: “My crown may tilt, but it will never fall off.”
A few years ago, I remember hearing someone tell me, “You are in control of your own happiness.” You may not be in control of a lot of things in your life, but you are in control of how you react to the world around you. It wasn’t until Doomsday that I actually began applying this bit of advice. By July 2017, I was falling into a deep, dark depression. Or maybe I was already depressed at this point and also in a little bit of denial. For about eight months since that dreadful day, I was coasting between Fake It til You Make It Land and Fuck This I Just Want to be Alone County.
But after months of feeling miserable ... I wanted to smile.
For real this time.
No more coasting for weeks on end or taking it one day at a time. It was my birthday month and I planned to celebrate. Yes, the whole month. Black people enjoy celebrating the whole month they were born rather than just celebrating for a weekend or week. We celebrate as if we are royalty. (Because we are. I just wish my fellow brothers and sisters felt the same way and moved as such). And after all I had been through, I deserved a month-long celebration.. During this celebratory moment I was going to cherish what it meant to be me and relish in it. If I didn’t truly smile at all that year, at least I would during that month.
I remember creating a list of all the things I should be grateful for so far that year. I was doing well at my job, my bills were paid, I had a roof over my head, and my family and friends were still around. I was making more money than I did when I originally entered the industry of digital advertising, my edges were popping, skin was becoming blemish free, and my hair was growing thicker like no one’s business. I wasn’t gaining an immense amount of weight, my eyebrows stayed fleeky, and my nails were always on point. From the outside looking in, I had no reason to complain or be sad. It looked as if I was good. I just didn’t feel good.
“Ummmm, but you still got fired in under a month from a job you waited patiently for, wasted a security deposit on a bomb ass home, and spent more money traveling to and from Tennessee than you have in the past seven months in general. Don’t ignore those details, but we can play pretend for now.”
I hated that voice in my head sometimes. The realist within me, the one that never ceases to burst the bubble of my colorful imagination. I know that portion of me means no harm, but that was not the time to mentally tell myself what I already knew. She was right, though. I shouldn’t ignore those details from the past. That entire experience was a learning lesson in disguise. I just haven’t figured out what the lesson was at that point, and I honestly didn’t care. As my birthday crept up on me, I repeated a mantra created by Ma$e, one of Harlem’s icons: Breathe, stretch, shake. No more sulking. No more sliding down that slippery slope of sadness and feeling regretful.
So I planned my birthday celebration.
By mid-July, I had two tickets to Panorama, created plans to have a few drinks and dinner with a friend, planned a getaway in the beginning of August, and scored two tickets to Afro Punk to top it all off. These four events were spanned out more than a month, but I didn’t care. The goal was to be genuinely happy and smile like nobody’s business. My job even threw me a small party with a few co-workers. My colleagues presented me a card signed by the entire department wishing me a happy birthday, and they even gave me a few gifts. I wasn’t expecting that. I felt so special because of that small gesture.
It wasn’t until Friday of my birthday that the festivities truly began. That night, my best friend and I got lit at a burrito bar and restaurant. We people-watched and cracked on passing pedestrians as if no one could hear us. We took pictures in front of a bank reminding ourselves of lighting, angles, and smizing. After the successful shoot, we stumbled on home. If other things happened that night, I honestly don’t remember. I guess that was the point of the night.
Saturday was the day I tapped into my inner music festival lover … even though this was my first festival. I researched looks, times of acts,
where the food and drinks would be, and the directions to Randall’s Island only to still feel unprepared. I held onto hope, though, because my soul sister Solange was performing that night. Between the great food, endless drinks, great company, and music, I was in a really good space.
And then Solange performed.
My entire life was served to me on a platter that was beautifully designed to spell out the meaning of #blackgirlmagic.
MY ENTIRE LIFE! Do you understand?!
Solange made me so proud to be a black girl. This beautiful soul sang about us, for us, to us. She celebrated black excellence like nothing I have seen in my 27 years. And I got to witness it up close and personal. I felt so at home in a crowd filled with strangers of different ethnicities and ways of life. Peace found me for thirty minutes, and I rode that euphoric train of happiness. I closed my eyes in complete bliss and swayed my hips to the mantras of black pride that became all too familiar by the summer of 2017.
What a time to be a black woman.
Solange’s performance gave me the fuel I needed to continue walking this Earth with my head held high. I rolled my hips and snapped my fingers in agreement to the messages made clear through her music. “Cranes In The Sky.” “Don’t Touch My Hair”. “F.U.B.U.” “Don’t You Wait.”“Bad Girls.” Each song held me captive in its melanin-influenced realness. I was in love.
And I finally began to see myself again.
A courageous, strong, and highly motivated lioness. A woman who has barely touched the surface of her own dose of #blackgirlmagic. Beautifully created in the image of God, she saunters this Earth in search of peace, comfortability, happiness, and love of all kinds. Fiercely bold and alluring, she dares to live this life dreaming out loud.
I drank in all of Solange’s words that night. The music moved my body, and her words moved my mind. As she sang “Rise,” I felt like a much needed change was coming:
“Fall in your ways, so you can crumble. Fall in your ways, so you can sleep at night. Fall in your ways, so you can wake up and rise.”