On Sunday I turned 21. Even though I celebrated a couple days before with my best friends with a trip to Manhattan. Being officially 21 feels weird.
I know that can probably sound pretentious or immature, (I don’t know you choose), because of the power associated with being 21 in the U.S. But, it’s not cause of the whole being old enough to legally drink thing. It’s something to celebrate so I’m not complaining. I described the feeling to a friend the other day. It’s more of the fact that I am definitely not a teenager anymore and no longer in the trial year of my 20s. The trial year being 20. I’m 20 and then some. I’m 21 and I have barely anything figured out. I’m 21 and I don’t have experience in all avenues that most 21 year olds do in my opinion. I feel unprepared. I think because most of my upbringing was so sheltered, I let myself get comfortable with one foot in and what foot out when it came to myself. I’m not super secure in a lot of things that I should be. A lot of things feel unsure. I’m scared about my future. I’m scared about my relationships. And that’s just the reality of it! I hardly admit I’m seriously scared if it’s not to someone who knows me well. But hey, it’s just the truth.
Anyway, I went to church on Sunday. My mom forced me out of bed insisting that I should “bless my year of 21” and start it off right by going to church. Despite how tired I was, I didn’t mind cause my church is pretty awesome. I still continued the day not really feeling too much like I should be celebrating, but just the overwhelming feeling of being older…or something. I don’t know how to describe it.
As I was walking in, someone tapped me on my shoulder I turned around and saw that it was one of my brother’s classmates who I had known growing up. She used to live close to us and had a hard time growing up sometimes due to some teasing and bullying. In high school, (her freshman year and my senior year), I had seen her become more comfortable and was even her peer leader.(For those who don’t know, some high schools have a semi-mentoring program where seniors are assigned certain classrooms of freshmen to educate on how to navigate high school life and the pressures of it). Most importantly, she had moved away from our district when her older sister passed away over a year ago.
It was pretty amazing to see her happy. I was super concerned when she moved away, because I had deemed her too sensitive to cope and probably broken after that happened. However, she was elated to see me. She seemed so emotionally strong and sturdy from my talk with her. And immediately spilled about how happy she was that I was her peer leader and in the orchestra with her in high school. Just to see her so happy, and healing, and telling me about the suicide awareness group she started in our township in light of her sister passing, was surreal to me. So much that I broke down. I had to run to the bathroom to clean up the tears before they ruined my subpar makeup job.
I don’t know if I believe in signs from God too much. Not so much from doubt about him, but from the fact that I never recognize them or sometimes am too pessimistic to view things as such. But, I think that was one. The irony of me running into her when I was THAT low, had God written all over it.
What I’m trying to say here is for most of my adult life I have felt undeserving of praise and/or happiness because of how many stupid decisions I’ve made. So much that, I am hardly ever too retrospective because I would constantly beat myself up and break down over my decisions. I just keep it pushing and move forward in hopes that something good will happen because of God’s grace.
Having run into my 16 year old neighbor, who I had watched grow up and helped start off her high school career on the right foot made me realize maybe I’m not leaving a horrible trail behind me after all. I’m not perfect, (which is still taking me a while to come to terms with). But, I’ve done positive things. I’ve made someone happy or happier at some point. I’m realizing now, that is what is to celebrate at 21. At least for me. There is something to celebrate just because you are you. And, I’ll gladly drink to that.
If you’ve read this long post all the way to the end, good for you. You’re loyal. I appreciate you. And now you’ll also know that I have a fun surprise for you, readers, coming up at the end of this month/beginning of September. So, stay tuned!!!!!!!!
Hey all! I hope you’re all having at least a bearable summer despite the disrespectful heat that encroaches on our good time. Somehow no matter how hot it gets, this is still my favorite season.
Anyway, enough small talk!
Most people who know me, know that I identify as Ghanaian diaspora/first generation American. That’s mostly because I identify a lot with being Ghanaian considering Twi is all I heard in the house, and Ghanaian food is most of what we ate. Also, Ghanaian customs and culture in terms of relationships with family is what is abided by and upheld in my home. However, ’till this day, I still have not visited Ghana. I really don’t count being there at 2 years old cause I mean c’mon; I don’t remember any of it. So, very early in my years living in the U.S., almost immediately, it felt like I was Ghanaian the least out of all the things I identified with at the time.
It was more difficult at the time to even fully identify as Ghanaian because I permanently moved to the United States at 7 years old from Hamburg, Germany. So at the time, I was very busy not trying to be so German and not speaking the language. As much as I have the ESL-immersion program to thank for that, I think moving here, initially, made me uncomfortable identifying as a black German. It sounded too funny and there was too much explanation that I had to follow up with it. I felt like I had to be like my cousins and strongly identify with American culture, R&B music, and only master the English language.
What I found most frustrating later on, is when my ESL teachers finally approved me to be in my classrooms full time, praised me for picking up the language so fast, and calling me exceptional, the first thing that teachers would ask is, “Oh you’re the girl from Germany right? Do you still speak German? Why don’t you speak German anymore?”, and from family and friends it was, “Oh you don’t speak German anymore? You know that language would have been really good for your future in your career?”. To me, it was confusing cause I was only doing what I had to do to get by and succeed in school, and apparently keeping my first language wasn’t part of it so, I didn’t! Was I not supposed to have assimilated? If not, then why did people make fun of me for being different? A lot of preteen/My Life as Ginger-like questions.
After that point, identifying as American with a Ghanaian background was easier than being “the black German” because there were black people here already with similar backgrounds, and having an African background was explainable, (for obvious reasons). Anyway, speaking English all the time made it easy for me not to have to speak Twi. I understood it fine. I could speak it if I wanted to. But, my parents spoke English and German so even when I forgot German from lack of practice and German communication, English was simple enough. My parents didn’t force it upon me to speak Twi as much as relatives who tried to embarrass me for it at family functions, so it was good.
However, once again, I’m sure many diaspora and first generation kids know the sentiment that many international black cultures hold against African Americans. I think I can best convey it as my parents constantly reminding me that, “You are not like the black people here; you are African. You’re not going to bring home that attitude that you learned at school, you understand?”, any time I was scolded growing up. So I was American, but I couldn’t adopt American culture or attitudes/sentiments. I felt like I was backed into this corner and put into a very tight box of, -you can be this; you cannot be this; you can speak this, but not too much; you can’t speak this at all-and so on. It was really confusing and frustrating to identify with anything! Even in school there was a lot of internal struggle as to whether it was ok for me to have friends who were black and not West African, or if I was to only make white friends. Or, if I could only make “cultured” friends. My school district was very diverse so it was a different reception in each group. With white friends that I had in primary/elementary school and middle school, I never felt like I could relate because I did not have the same kind of relationships with family, more specifically my parents, as them. Therefore, the amount of freedom and type of structure in my life was different. I was the butt of a lot of jokes. Also, I was getting singled out by everyone else as the black girl who hung out with those white girls. So, like every year my friend group was changing. So with every group of people growing up I felt like I had to validate my identity and prove why I deserved their validation.
It was in high school that I realized it did not matter, as long as I was comfortable. But, I didn’t feel authentically Ghanaian despite knowing the culture, customs and language, because I hadn’t experienced it first hand. That all changed for me my first year of college. I’m glad it was the school I had chosen in terms of seeing true diversity in people around me because there was a plethora of international students. And having met other Ghanaian students who weren’t always directly from Ghana or spoke other languages more than the other, I found relief in my identity having been in limbo the majority of my life after Hamburg. It was like affirmation that it was o.k. to be whoever I identified most with, ya know? I think growing up here has opened my eyes to the many facets of blackness and the multiplicity of an identity that lies in being from ~here~ but then also from ~here~. Not being from a place, but still having a strong connection to it.
I was going to post a different blog post. I had 2 others that I was deciding between actually. Although, either would have been appropriate in any sense because this is more of an opinion blog. It’s not necessarily a blog that posts what’s very popular or curates pop culture happenings. Just like my other posts, it would have been something that crossed my mind and I felt like writing about.
However, at this point every new article featuring black oppression, whether in the U.S. or any other part of the world, feels like it’s hitting closer to home with each headline. Therefore, I’d feel like I wouldn’t be genuine while writing, if I didn’t at least touch on personal concerns about what the hell is going on in the world around me that I am for sure affected by because of my skin color.
I think, like most people, it’s not that we’re ignoring the horrible circumstances that are so relatable to some of us or loved ones, it’s that many of the situations and news stories we’ll come across are taxing in every sense of the word. Emotionally, mentally, and physically. They’re traumatic. You’re having a great morning and you know turning on the news or scrolling through you timeline will screw that up so, you don’t. It’s draining to think we’re in “a new age” and the only thing that has visibly changed is our technology and access, yet somehow things still feel very familiar to what we are taught and told about the horrid, unfair past. It’s almost eery when comparing our present and 100 years in the past how much we are “supposed to” have changed and progressed, yet only seeing how much farther we have to go. I’m not necessarily only speaking about the recent murders by police in the U.S. I think any people of a nation can say that when looking at the facts, of course there has been progression, but everyone knows focusing on fixing what isn’t broken will only make other problems even bigger.
Generally, I think what’s tricky about how to endure times like this, or rather, becoming more aware of your status, your community’s status, and the world’s status is how to not fall apart knowing that it will directly or indirectly affect you, your community, or loved ones.
What I’m trying to say is, I shed tears when I read about Trayvon Martin. Thinking about how much my younger brother loves to go running at late hours in the winter with his hoody on, I was shook. And, like most people, pretty angry. But like I mentioned earlier, this time after seeing the murders of Alton Sterling and Philando Castille on video, I just really didn’t want to ruin my stability or joy by turning on CNN or scrolling through my twitter TL. I didn’t need proof of the anger. I knew it was there. I didn’t need proof of the fear. I didn’t need proof of the hurt. I didn’t need proof that black people were still mistreated in this country. I wrote. I read. I hung out with friends. By the end of the second day, I wasn’t as drained as the first day. I didn’t feel as defeated.
This is not to say ignore the media and the story it’s telling of injustice. In fact, be very cautious of it. But don’t let that energy become you. Let it move you. Forward. Most importantly, learn what works best for your peace of mind. If it means turning the TV off and staying off of social media. Do so. You can protest and fight the good fight without having to see CNN replay videos of men that look like your father, brother, uncle, or friends get murdered. Whether you realize it or not, those things will take a toll on you. Make sure to take care of you first. You want to be as effective as possible when fighting for your communities and yourselves and that is only going to be when you are at your best. What I’ve learned about emotion and timing is that it is just as taxing to use your emotion as a strategy. It’s not a strategy. Let it instead be a motivator in whatever you do. Whether it is getting that degree, finishing that project, or getting out there to protest for a cause you are passionate about, remember to take care of you. Whatever you are fighting for needs strong people. Self-care will keep you strong.
I’M BACK BY POPULAR DEMAND IN MY MOST MESSY MYA WAY!
I’m not gassing myself, I’ve clearly been on hiatus for the warmer half of Spring so far and the beginning of summer, and I’ve gotten so much great feed back and more writing opps all cause of you all. Most of you are friends and colleagues and definitely DON’T have to read this blog but y’all choose to so, you are appreciated! *Tupac voice*
Anyway, let’s jump right into this annoying ass word of a title that is so relatable for a lot of people…unfortunately.
I don’t even really know how to jump into this though? I edited this post like 3 times already and I know there’s so many layers to it.
I think sometimes, situationships can get confused with the talking stage, but that’s not at all what I’m talking about here. I think the talking stage is a fair stage. You’re both getting to know each other and seeing if you’re compatible and all that jazz. I could not for the life of me define situationship in one or two sentences. Therefore, I went on Urban Dictionary. And they define situationship as, “any problematic relationship characterized by one or more unresolved, interpersonal conflicts. usually confused with dating”. The last part I find hilarious and I’ll get to why in a minute. But, that’s the definition we’re gonna stick with for the sake of everyone’s varying experiences and scenarios related to this word. And for the sake of this not becoming a novel of them. I mean, the definition is broad enough anyway.
So, I feel like situationships simply happen because one person in the relationship, well the relationship that isn’t officially a “relationship”, is just not ready to do just that; be in an “official” relationship! And just like the definition says, it’s mostly cause of unresolved personal shit that the person just hasn’t dealt with. As that is very unfortunate and probably difficult to deal with, if you’re anything like me or most people, you tend to brush things off. Those things being your emotions lol. And all the insecurities and fears surrounding them.
Let’s delve a little deeper shall we. Think of a group of people you know not to address their emotions……Guys! Men! Boys!
Before you call me sexist, a man-hater, or man eater, or bitter to defend whatever else you think I’m about to say. Bite your tongue, friend.
I think it’s important to recognize boys/men are known to not be emotional or rather suppress them because of the pressures surrounding what it means to “be a man”. And that’s not easy at all. And that’s not a pressure girls/women have to deal with as often. There are many longitudinal psych studies proving this since forever, Google is your friend. I don’t know any house hold that was close to our family that didn’t frequent the phrase, “boys don’t cry”. Anyway, back to my point.
I think because of that learned habit, many guys suppress their fears when starting something new with someone. Whatever hurt they experience or that they’ve seen done to their boy has either made them overcautious or just one of those boys that tweets “bitches ain’t shit” once a day with the 100 emoji next to it(💯).
So here you are. A fresh start to a possibly fun successful relationship. And here he is. With his guards up pretending like it’s cause he has minimal feelings when in actuality it’s because he has all the feelings in the world and hasn’t confronted them. And now here you are, thinking you are in a relationship. It’s humorous and pitiful at the same time, for someone who has been there and done that, to watch. Don’t get me wrong here. A lot of times it’s definitely vice versa where the guy is the one putting it all on the table while the girl is taking her sweet time picking at it with her fork. It can be so many different scenarios honestly, hence the word “situationship”.
However, I think where most people get stuck is when one or the other says what this young man says/raps in this song between the 2:57-3:45 minute marks called Falling by Krept&Konan. I say young man because I don’t know which one is Krept or Konan. Sorry UK readers, I’m not hip.
Just focus on the last part of his verse,
“Don’t wanna be apart from you, scared of division
But I’m still scared of commitment
I kinda like what we got, don’t wanna ruin that Just for a title, why you pursuing that?
Can’t you see your friends and their Instagram relationships
That last a few months, they break up and start erasing pics
Fuck that,What we got’ll last longer Making it official won’t make the love stronger.”
To be frank, it’s just a very childish concept to think “Making it official won’t make the love stronger”. But from experience, some guys genuinely believe that you must be in love before the relationship, and then build from there.
I think what’s scary about it or alarming rather is that so many people are so used to this that they think it’s healthy. This being the pattern of waiting and never being good enough or satisfying the requirements of being official. Or being unsatisfied with your partners lack of interest in being a couple and thinking it’s too late to back out and having to go with it.
There’s so many versions of that verse that I feel guys use just to keep their girl happy temporarily and still not be a thing! Or, still behave single. My question is, if you’re that afraid of losing her, why not make it official? I’m genuinely curious; do guys think spitting renditions of this verse in a long paragraph text once a month is really going to keep the girl that they apparently value so dearly? Not to be corny, but if you like it, that much, put a ring on it? I’m not even talking about marriage but if you want them to be yours, claim that!
Secondly, girls. Don’t let anyone convince you that they values you that much if they choose not to value the relationship you have with them. A lot of girls stick around for way too long simply cause the person is sweet and charming and hasn’t really hurt you yet.
I also feel like, this can get misconstrued for impatience. Especially by guys. I hear guys joke often about girls just wanting to be “wifed” or have a title for instagram. But you easily have the option of declining that girl, so why don’t you. There is a difference between a girl who is rushing to be “claimed” and one who can wait for you to be sure of yourself and eventually make a decision. But making her stay for your, “we know what we got and that’s all that matters” ass is not the wave I’m telling you right now. Anyone who does this, guy or girl, I suggest you change up that habit. Many people have been through it once and after even one time it’s sooo easy to recognize it the second time. Trussst me.
