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11.21.2020

sweet 16

10.28.2015

February 25th…

04.08.2014

There’s Something About Crying in the Rain

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it was supposed to rain the day of my photoshoot.

it was supposed to rain the day of my photoshoot. my best friend traveling down from new york + I tracked this for seven straight days leading up to that saturday + I accepted an outcome of gloomy photos even before the day’s arrival, prior to greeting the photographer with first-time hugs. sometimes, I welcome things without having met it physically because of history, because of what’s already etched in stone as a promise—a neurological response that alleviates any incoming calls from anxiety ahead of time. protection or pessimism? but nature is a lesson + 90% chance of rain still leaves room for other possibilities. the 10% can still outweigh the majority, especially when something, someone, higher is in control.⁣⁣⁣
⁣⁣⁣
the morning was bright to all of our amazement + for the first time, I reversed positions + let someone capture me in the light—sun + inner. a genuine shot of laughter, a friend + photographer cracked compliments from the sidelines. they were very much a part of the photo, even with them not being present as the subject. Black women affirming a Black woman, extracting energy. an inner g. words you cannot hear, hands that don’t appear that helped pin together a dress + zip boots. I think of this in taking notice of my shadow.⁣
⁣
𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐟 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭? 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬, 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬, 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐠𝐥𝐨𝐰?⁣⁣⁣
⁣⁣⁣
i’ve been in communication with this the last two years, writing out memories, reviving + reliving, interrogating + interviewing the buried what was. remembering tapping into the shadow is the highest form of light work. it eliminates the theory that we live separate versions of ourselves; it embraces a deeper understanding of the “awareness-awakening trajectory”. i hope this gemini season, you integrate the seen + unseen. knowing that even at night, the sun still appears elsewhere. knowing that it is all still part of the Self.⁣⁣
⁣⁣
𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬.

“a queen⁣ offers her hand to be kissed,⁣ and

“a queen⁣
offers her hand to be kissed,⁣
and can form it into a fist⁣
while smiling the whole damn time.”⁣
— @acevedowrites
⁣
34.⁣

makeup slay by @titimarie_.

restoration: to bring back to a former position or

restoration: to bring back to a former position or condition; a restoring to an unimpaired or improved condition. it was the year to go home. not to ny, but to the centers of my insides. 33 did just that, turning me inside out + right-side up to get to the core of who I am. crucifying + crossing out what I no longer needed. for higher purposes. a Jesus year indeed.⁣
⁣
Octavia Butler wrote to me through lauren olamina, both 28 years ago + four years from today’s date. it is the only entry for april in parable of the sower. today, I turn 34. the writings of the past + future intersect where Octavia’s words have taken shape + has a body. I worked backwards + wrote a prologue in july. taking 5 months to write + 30 years to heal a secret that showed up traits planted in trauma, I pulled my inner child out of my work, out of my own body. things began to make sense—flaws + fears, speech + spiritual gifts. I gave it a name + identified it for what it is. in uprooting it, I took the parts of me that have become deficient + repotted would could be restored. more than I could see initially, there was plenty to be salvaged. hurt blinds you to that revelation, but when you excavate deep enough, there is still more to explore. hopeful, every experience is a dot that I thread together to make clear my purpose. i do not just construct stories, but i am a breathing book, filled with unfinished sentences started by little E + needing completion with today’s hand—one that could only conclude what was started with the cards God dealt me; chapters that ended with my foremothers + beginning anew and for the first time with me; a book held together by a binding, both sturdy + flexible. Erica at 4; Erica at 34, intrinsically + intimately intersected. ⁣
⁣
my memoir’s titled ‘what binds us together’ + if you’ve been following for a while, you know its origins. 33 revealed what happened as a child that kept me in a bind + this moving forward is what and who I am bound to by way of blood relations + life’s blessings. like ‘bind’, I am more than one definition. no matter the many routes, the journey ended up one place, the end always in. thankfully, I made it back.⁣
⁣
it’s good to be home.

to the quiet one. who still sleeps with his toddle

to the quiet one. who still sleeps with his toddler blanket. that occasionally sneaks in his momma’s bed to cuddle + watch anime on saturday nights, to see who between us can fall asleep under the arms of the other first. i usually win. my number two, but never second. an old soul + highly intuitive child with gifts that expose me to the lives you have lived before this one, evidence of the breadth of your wisdom that extends far beyond this earth. a crystal collector. a gem you are.⁣⁣
⁣⁣
the stand-out kind with a knack for cracking jokes—you get your wit + fast lines from your father, but like a true aries, your punchlines leave no room for comebacks. a creative comic kid with ill storytelling skills you’ve inherited from mom. an exceptional 11th grade reader. we stan a lover of literature. i’ve appreciated your takes on wes moore’s memoir ‘the other wes moore’, interpretations to abstract art, and your gen alpha elucidations to marshmello’s music video to “stars”. i learn so much beside you. because of you. because, you.⁣⁣
⁣⁣
to the brains of the bunch. the 2019 and 2020 recipient of academic achievement by the council of elders of the black community of howard county’s black student achievement program. your accomplishments are your own. flipping the social rejections you faced early in life, you were never one to fit in. we laugh because they follow you now. a nonconformist. a blossoming pianist. ⁣
⁣
my number two, but always first. number two, you are my number one. ⁣⁣
⁣⁣
to the keeper of Kai. right hand to Kae. the monopoly master to dad. the warmest hugger to mom. the class clown. happy 11th birthday, Kamryn Mikhail. you truly are the master teacher.

“the instant of birth is exquisite. pain and joy

“the instant of birth is exquisite. pain and joy are one at this moment. ever after, the dim recollection is so sweet that we speak to our children with a gratitude they never understand.”⁣
⁣
Kai’s 4th solar return.

did you know your sun, moon, and ascendant signs a

did you know your sun, moon, and ascendant signs are that of your paternal grandmother, your maternal grandmother, your paternal grandfather? a wonderful amalgamation of the elements. this is no coincidence. four weeks before your 4th, someone would ask to see your photo + would say exactly what your daddy has mentioned since your birth: that you resemble both of your living great-grandmothers. your eyes spill the secret that you’ve been here before, living lives prior to this one. your face prominent and full tell me that you will have much to say in this lifetime. because you are of them, you will hold what you know in the cornerstones of your cheeks. let it sit there, knowing those who speak, do not know, and those who know, do not speak. your wisdom + how you teach will show up in other ways. ⁣⁣
⁣⁣
in the softness you possess + in the edginess of beings born this season. you are dual and yet, one. ⁣⁣
⁣⁣
in the smallness of your life + in reiterations from readers, i believe that the energies of our ancestors—both living and transitioned—never expire, only evolve. you are living proof that we are here to wake up from the illusion of separateness. you were always the reminder that we are already home. that heaven exists right here on earth. that the stars from above, in conjunction with the love of our parents, make us; that the people before us live within us.⁣⁣
⁣⁣
today, we celebrate your arrival from higher spaces to this one. the continuation of legacies + a love where there are no limits. thank you for choosing me. for simply being a projection of my own level of evolution. for the undefined, infinite joy born on an early evening of january 2, 2017 + beyond.⁣⁣
⁣⁣
𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲, 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐬.

it’s hard to break down the depths of a connecti

it’s hard to break down the depths of a connection like this. after a while, how do you put almost two and half decades of friendship into words? i’ve long expressed both the joy + struggle of rocking out with someone for this long. we’ve seen it all. and still in each battle, breakup, or new beginning, it is always you who’s there with me and vice versa. my gratitude goes beyond today to your mother i grew up afraid of. she was something like mine in many ways + we bonded over the strictness that is Black women raising daughters who did sneaky things in the name of finding freedom. in that, we knew that we were single souls in separate bodies. but today, it is these same women we thank for their ways when raising Kae, Kam, and Kai. what a beautiful thing to live some life + to know now what we didn’t know then.

and there lives gratitude to your father. who drove us to school in the mornings and let us belt out or rap song lyrics in an eerie teenage pitch; harlem shake + be dramatic in his car to the place you probably hated most and i place i found safe. we split off in this way, our differences put to light, and yet, our friendship remained in tact. we got through because of one another.

shout out to your parents for your having you. for raising a Queen. for letting me be the sister you never had. for being the first person i call and never changing your intro: “what happened now?” for never changing your ending: “let me know what you need,” or “tell me if i have to drive down.” thank you for being a friend. my best friend. the perfect fusion of every golden girl there was. happy 33rd birthday, baby sis. don’t let me pull up today + you’re already wine-wasted, please and thank you.

xx,
e.

“if you and your father were closer, do you thin

“if you and your father were closer, do you think his death would have caused you to spiral?”⁣
⁣
“yeah, absolutely.”⁣
⁣
how odd is it to want a deeper connection with someone, but also experience gratitude that it didn’t work out that way? i would revisit this conversation and takeaway in the months ahead up to the present time.⁣
⁣
in the days that followed, we grew—together and apart. at the end of spring, we realized it was time for us to become one with the seasons and go to counseling together in an attempt to revive the wilted parts of our relationship. i was living in the memory of what it was to be betrayed, the side effects of worst case scenarios lingering around in speech and sex. he always felt i was never truly over it. the body keeps the score. and in truth, as amplified in virtual sessions with a therapist, i wasn’t. i still held on to the memories of what led to our daughter’s birth and summer ‘18. the problem began with him, but i held on to it. this is how i avoid death—i extend expiration dates and hoard memories to keep them alive. i held on to his words, jotted down as reminders, bullet points, and saved audio notes for memoir writing:⁣
⁣
“how can you give up on something that’s always there?”⁣
“i got so comfortable in his existence. that’s why i lost him.”⁣
⁣
he spoke about other people, not knowing he was speaking of me.⁣
⁣
triggered and guilty, i went back to individual therapy…⁣
⁣
…ironically, on the next day, it would be the last time we’d speak. there was no blow up or argument—just a increase in our empathic abilities and an awareness that we weren’t aligned. for years, i’d hear him relay his granny’s words to our children, “who don’t hear, will feel,” and we heard everything we needed to about our connection through energy. sometimes, the hard work is already done on our behalf if we just lean into and accept the vibrations of a moment. i was learning to differentiate between the sound of intuition guiding me and trauma misleading me.”
⁣
‘sweet 16.’ new, on the blog + in the bio.
the first + only post for the year on 33 and 2020.
tw: death.⁣
⁣
(photo beautifully shot by: mann limburg)

in december of last year into january of this year

in december of last year into january of this year, one of the closest people to me was admitted into the hospital for a serious medical condition that led to daily dialysis treatments for 3-4 hours on end. for a minute, for the first time, really, i questioned God, wondering if this was the answer to my request, “please bring me closer to you in the new year.” this wasn’t the way i had envisioned it would pan out, yet, it brought my family together, brought my children into my bedroom to find me kneeling at the foot of the bed, brought my brother back to life. today, i celebrate his 1st saturn return, his rebirth, and his entire existence. ⁣
⁣
to my little big bro on his 29th: i love you just as much as i did on the saturdays we watched bobby’s world + animaniacs together, when we argued over who was better in mortal kombat + crash bandicoot, and the day you saved me from myself back in ‘03. i know how to fight—in every sense of the word—because of you. watching you grow up. watching you on that bed. ⁣
⁣
thank you for pulling through.⁣
thank you for pulling through.⁣
thank you for pulling through.⁣
⁣
thank you for being my first best friend + holding the title since. happy birthday, kid. it’s good to see you on this side.

“are you a princess?”⁣ “she said ‘i’m

“are you a princess?”⁣
“she said ‘i’m much more than a princess, but you don't have a name for it yet here on earth.’”⁣
⁣
halloween ‘20.

“𝑤𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑛 𝑐𝑢𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 ℎ𝑎𝑖𝑟 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦’𝑟𝑒 𝑔𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔.”

𝘆𝗲𝗮𝗵. 𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘀 𝗿𝘅.

moment of transparency: when i had my firstborn 11

moment of transparency: when i had my firstborn 11 years ago, i was 130 pounds, a size 7. fast forward to the present + three children later, i’m a little under 200 pounds, fluctuate between a size 10-12. the power of the snapback skipped right over me all three times. shifting between loestrin, depo-provera + the iud; struggling with removing sweets from my diet after being raised in a home that didn’t prioritize healthy eating; and elevated levels of stress throughout the years definitely doesn’t help with my weight loss journey. so as much as i appreciate + understand the wonders of what a woman’s body can do, do i still struggle with my image? absolutely.⁣
⁣
the moment of taking off a sundress came with a small bout of anxiety as i pulled the stripes that camouflaged the belly + back fat over my head. i adjusted my breasts, i pulled the bottom of my one-piece from the crevice of my butt that no longer sits up perkily. and maybe my face gave me away as it usually does, but he trekked over hot sand to grab the dress from the hands that gripped at it as if it were the edge of a cliff.⁣
⁣
“it’s not a towel. it’s okay.”⁣
⁣
as it folded itself up into a mess of a ball + fell on the towel beneath us, he grabbed a handful of a cheek. in a mix of sensual and playfully, he squeezed the jiggly parts where the lines intersect + the dimples started to form. he would lean over, drink in hand, and pinch flesh.⁣
⁣
“you’re drunk,” i would tell him, but was immediately reminded of the ways that we diminish our beauty, our value, ourselves when we use cover up language to lighten the mood or lessen the (emotional or mental) weight of a moment. or in this case, hide how we feel about compliments and our level of self-confidence. it took years for me to realize that sometimes refusing admiration was simply a reflection into how I saw myself…⁣
⁣
new, full article over at members.xonecole.com.

“humanity does not suffer from the disease of wr

“humanity does not suffer from the disease of wrong beliefs but humanity suffers from the contagious nature of the lack of belief. if you have no magic with you it is not because magic does not exist but it is because you do not believe in it. even if the sun shines brightly upon your skin every day, if you do not believe in the sunlight, the sunlight for you does not exist.”⁣
—c. joybell c.⁣
⁣
𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤.⁣
𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠.⁣
𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠.

“my mother⁣ is pure radiance. ⁣ ⁣ she is t

“my mother⁣
is pure radiance. ⁣
⁣
she is the sun⁣
i can touch⁣
+ kiss⁣
⁣
+ hold⁣
without ⁣
getting burnt.”⁣
—sanober khan

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