Jamila and the Bee(tle)

I'm not really afraid of bugs.

If I see a spider in the house -- I kill it (sorry tree huggers) and move on. My daughter on the other hand is a different story.

She sees a bug and all hell breaks loose. There was once a time a fly got in the car and I damn near had to pull over because she was losing it.

I have tried my best to not instill that insect fear in her so I honestly do not know where she gets it from.

A couple weeks ago, I was faced with two scary bug encounters and I had to remain calm all while she watched.

First -- it was a Saturday -- these swarming light loving beetles appeared to come out of nowhere. They were congregating around every porch light so in order to get inside you had to go toe to toe.

I survived one door and was headed home when I felt something crawling on my neck. First, I thought it was my hair. Then I thought it was a bug. Then I'm like no, no that's my hair.

NO IT WAS A FUCKIN' BEETLE.

So I'm at a red light damn near about to strip trying to find this stowaway.

Kura: "What's wrong mom?"

Damn. I'm caught.

So I instantly play it off. Told her I was itching and tried to look for the beetle some more.

She says was it that bug?

Apparently her little ass saw the bug and didn't warn me since hell it wasn't on her.

So by now I'm still trying to drive but also trying to purposely get caught at every light.

Kura: "Are you scared of that bug?"

Now I have no choice but to man up.

No. I told her and after finally catching that beetle before it went down my shirt... I had to pick it up (eek) hold it in my hand (double eek) and show her I had no fear.

Heart was pounding but I did it. Then i quickly tossed his ass out the window.

The very next day we had another bug encounter.

This one was more deadly. (Ok, I'm being dramatic, but it was serious)

Somehow a wasp got in the laundry room.

Kura comes to me and says umm mom there's a dragon fly in the back.

I go and see this evil insect flying around on its death mission.

FUCK.

In my head I'm thinking: THAT'S A FUCKIN WASP.

Of course I don't say it out loud.

I instead tell her, that's not a dragonfly baby, please close the door.

So now its just me, this wasp and the dog.

Now I got stung by a wasp when I was in like 4th grade. I remember feeling like a razor that was on fire had sliced my ankle.

I didn't want my kids to experience nor did I want to experience it again.

So the dog is just laying there chilling. The wasp still buzzing above.

So I quickly closed the door behind me.

That was between the dog and the wasp.  I ain't wanna get in the middle of it.

🐝Formation & Liberation 🐝

Outside Lincoln Financial Field; prepared to get in Formation Beyonce changed my outlook on life. Before the groans and eye rolls begin let me explain. This past weekend I flew to see the Queen herself in all her glory. No big deal, right? For me, it was. I sometimes envy women I see with so much freedom. Women who can at the drop of a dime go to the store at 1:30am. Or hit up the club on a last minute whim. As a married mother of 2, I don't get that.  Last minute store runs turn into a fiasco of a field trip because one kid cant find his shoe and the other wants to bring a hideous shrek doll for the ride. Sometimes is not even worth the fight. When I saw Beyonce's Super Bowl performance I was hooked. "Formation" gave me life and when "Lemonade" dropped a fire I didn't even know needed to be lit was sparked. When I told my husband I was going to see Beyonce he simply said, "Okay." Not really believing me. Anyone who knows me, knows that I'm a homebody. I would rather sit at home, glass of wine in hand, watching "Snapped." That's just me. Cincinnati clubs don't do much for me or maybe I'm still grappling with an internal battle I'm having within myself about whether married women belong in the club or not. Nonetheless I would rather be at home. It also doesn't help that I work weekends. While most people are tolling away Monday-Friday, and living for the weekend, I'm grinding it out Wednesday-Sunday. Yes that means I'm at work EVERY weekend. It's apparently a hard concept to grasp for some people.  I've been working weekends 5+ years now and I am pretty much used to it. I don't love it but it is what it is. So for me there are no such things as a weekend trip with the girls. Or a quick romantic getaway with the Mister. Even trying to get in the club for a quick drink and dab on the dance floor is work in itself. Did I mention getting time off is pretty difficult? Sure I have benefits and vacation time but getting it approved doesn't always happen and there are only certain times of the year when we are even allowed to request time off. As a mother I am constantly in "mommy mode" or family mode. My pure existence is now forever connected to two little people. Any decision I make is made with my children and husband in mind. I went on a business trip last summer and that was the first time I had truly ever spent time away from them. But going out of town for work is not the same as going out of town for fun. And this weekend proved to be so much more. Just the opportunity of going to bed without making sure the kitchen is clean and the kids have their pajamas on and are tucked in was a delight in itself. Being around ADULTS outside of a workplace setting was a pure joy. I went on this trip with two equally enthusiastic Beyhive members. They've seen 'Yonce in action multiple times. This would be my first. My Beyonce buddies are also two equally successful black women. And being with them, we met a group of other successful black women. All different backgrounds. It was one of the most beautiful experiences. To just sit and watch as we had champagne on the rooftop of one of the women's newly purchased row houses, I sat quietly taking it all in. A whole 'lotta black girl magic. Hearing random chatter that didn't include "get out my room!" or "she just hit me!" was so soothing. The concert itself was as amazing as I thought it would be. Seeing a stadium full of people to witness a black woman's magic was enough to put me on cloud 9. Each pop and lock had the crowd encouraging Bey as if we were her best friends cheering her on in a dance battle. A lot of "you better work" and "get it" phrases being thrown out there. I'm pretty sure tears welled up in my eyes as she so genuinely thanked us for being fans before going into her finale, ending the concert with "Halo." I didn't want it to end. In the days leading up to the trip it was still as if my husband didn't believe I was really going. He's so used to me being at home the thought of me actually traveling out of state for a concert was just wild to him. No shade to him, he just knows his wife really well. But from the moment I packed and had my suitcase at the door ready to go I felt liberated. My aunt came to pick me up and saw me with luggage. "Where you going? What you doing running away from your family?" I laughed. But now that I think about it -- hell yeah I was!  Sometimes I think as mothers some of us get so caught up in mothering, we forget about ourselves. This has to be selfie #3,279 in my phone of me and these crazy kids We forget to live. I know I have. My days are usually pretty similar. Wake up. Wake kids. Eat Breakfast. Take them to school. Go to work. Get off work. Get kids. Cook dinner. Do baths. Go to bed. Repeat. This trip gave me the confirmation I needed; there is nothing wrong with mommy having a break. There is nothing wrong with having fun away from your family. And the fact that everyone was so surprised about my trip lets me know I need to get out and start living more. And in the words of Beyonce: Sometimes you gotta go in the back of that closet and pull out ya freakum dress.    It's not a dress, but you get the point.

Black Santas Matter

When NBC decided to take on The Wiz as its latest live production….Twitter went into a firestorm.

And that firestorm was people sounding off  (who clearly didn’t know what they were talking about) questioning the so called "audacity" of NBC to remake a classic –referring to The Wizard of Oz.

One tweet that stuck out : “ how come there were no white actors in this?”

All the uproar but I guess those same people somehow didn’t see the cast of The Wizard of Oz?

Or hell mostly any TV sitcom on right now.

Have those same critics been in the store this holiday season trying to buy their daughter a Barbie that looks like them?

Being the majority you don’t take those type of challenges into consideration.

Which is why a Black Santa Clause is a pretty big deal.

I remember growing up, the only Santa Clauses in our house… were the same color of my mother – dark brown.

The white angel on top of the tree was even doctored up and painted brown.

That may sound petty but now I see why my mother did it.

We used to only go to Swifton Commons Mall to take pictures with the black Santa…whose sack wasn’t a bright red, but instead a multicolored kente cloth.

Swifton Commons of course came and went…and so did the black Santa.

By the time I had children, I couldn’t find a black Santa.

So when Macy’s offered opportunities to take pictures with their African American Santa…for FREE this was a big deal.

Its important for your children to see people that look like them.

Being a majority, you don’t have that problem because well – you’re the majority.

This year, I was prepared for my kids to have their pictures with Santa… just days before, they took pictures with the other Santa (not my choice) so I knew they wouldn’t be scared this time.

When we approached him, my daughter seemed cautious.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“I don’t wanna take a picture with him,” she whispered.

“Are you sure, I have hats for you to wear like Santa,” I tried my best to convince her.

“I don’t want to. That’s not Santa. Santa is white,” she argued.

My heart jumped.

I wanted to instantly interrogate her and ask who the hell told you that.

But it was pointless.

Society told her Santa is white.

Society told her to be afraid of a Santa who has the same skin color has her. The same skin color as her brother, her father, her grandfather.

I was devastated.

My son not knowing what was brewing between me and his sister willingly took his picture.

We moved along so other brown children could see a Santa that looked like them.

I just wonder how a white parent would feel had their child been afraid of a white Santa and said Santa was really black?

Now do people see why black Santas are important?

Do they see why black Barbies are needed?

Do they see why diversity is so important?

I just took my daughter to see her first ballet – The Nutcracker.

 She was mesmerized – seeing ballerinas in real life. It was a little girl’s dream come true.

But one thing was missing. Ballerinas that looked like her.

“Are ballerinas only white?”

Yes.

Well no.

Well kinda.

The ballerinas we saw that night – were all white. But not only whites can be ballerinas.

We came home and looked up Misty Copeland on Youtube to see a ballerina that looked like her.

But she still wasn’t really buying me on the Santa part.

And then later, I told her Santa isn’t real.