Saturday, December 13, 2008

The Race is Not for the Swift!

So I have shared with my readers my goal to reach and complete medical school. It has been a long and arduous semester but i'm nearing the end of my first of four laps. I began the semester taking pre-calculus and Bio 102 which includes a lab segment. I have enjoyed dissecting the fetal pig (once I got over the swine factor - no offense to my "other white meat" eaters out there), flowers and even the crayfish. I could have done without the punett squares but i've been told genetics is a major part of medicine... Go figure... LOL! 

Now math on the hand has taken it's share of jabs at this sistah but I refuse to give up. I have not done fantastic on my quizzes but as my professor said to encourage me, I always come to class and complete all my assignments and the final is 40 percent of my grade. You're right if you said I need to rock the final. Tuesday is my last day of class and the day of my bio lab final. After this, I have a week to prepare for my bio lecture and math finals. I have felt like a fish out of water next to all these recent high school graduates who were just taking this stuff last year! I on the other hand took a math course in 2006 and b4 that 1994! I did attempt to get math tutoring but alas a room full of unknowing students and three tutors didn't quite fit my much lacking math skills. 

Over the last month or so, I have found a classmate and a calculus tutor who have been a help to me. The Calculus tutor hasn't seen pre-cal in a while so it's a refresher for him and he keeps a fire under me so that's good. One day, my husband offered him a slice of my pumpkin bread (minus the walnuts, half the sugar and addition of raisins) and let's just say we worked out his compensation!

I am attending my alma mater, the City College of New York to complete my premed classes. This is mainly because they have a post-bacc premedical studies program geared to help degree holding students complete med school requirements. I decided to apply to the program to help my chances in getting into a good med school and to simply provide solid support on my way there. I reached out to a friend and ex-employer at City as well as my mentor for recommendations and prepared my application for the deadline of Dec 1st @ 5pm. 

Unfortunately, preparation of my personal statement was delayed to the weekend before... and needless to say I didn't finish until 4:30 that day! I put everything in order and walked it over to the office. I handed my package (although not too happy with my rushed and so I felt lengthy and possibly even unfocused statement) to one of the assistants. After five minutes of him teasing me about the fact that if I missed my train I would have missed the deadline, he took it and delivered it to the director. I was then told to wait three to four weeks for a response. You can imagine my shock when I opened my mailbox two days letter and found my ACCEPTANCE letter to the program. It is a small step but it did something so big inside of me. I saw progression and felt once again like I can do this. I have since met the director and some of the incoming and outgoing post-bacc students. I'm excited about the next year and a half. It will take time and lots of work but I'm patient and up to the challenge.

Lap two, GET READY!

Sunday, November 30, 2008

Discounted Life

I absolutely thought that the monumental win by President Elect Barack Obama would have been the impetus for my return to the world of blogging... but alas, no (stay tuned though, I have some things to say about that!)

So what does have me back and pissed off to no end? How about the fact that a 34 year old man lost his life so some jerk could cop a flat panel for a few hundred dollars below the retail price!!!! What the f*@K!!! So now you have your trophy piece while this man's family mourns his loss? I'm so angered by this. When does the attainment of a thing outweigh the necessity for exercising common decency, order and outright common sense? This behavior does not end or begin with this incident. 

Why do we allow ourselves to be caught up in the allure of advertisements and media hype? We have to have to newest of the new because they tell us to? We have to freak out and pull out her hair because the economy is in the toilet? If we're not the richest of the rich, then how can we make it? We measure our status by the quantity of things we have gained in our lives instead of the quality of life that we lead. I've always tried to maintain a non-judgmental voice when it comes to this blog but I feel like we need to wake up! Is it wrong to want to save money and get a good bargain? Come on now... not at all. But something is wrong when we allow ourselves to get caught up in behavior that serves to destroy instead of build up. Let's not be be sheep. 

I don't know how effective this message will be because no one who would swarm into a store and trample a man to death for a $4 hand mixer would probably read this blog anyway! 

My heart and prayers go out to the family of Jdimytai Damour. Say his name... and remember it. He was someone's child, someone's future, someone's memories...

I'm Back!

So it's been ages since I've posted to this blog and I apologize to those who have followed my earlier posts. Many of you have urged me to keep writing and please don't think your voices went unheard (I even got a tender admonishment from my girl over at originalwombman.blogspot.com I know, Chi!). School has had me swamped but I plan to stay on top of my blogging from now on! 


Friday, August 8, 2008

Mothers Not Baby Mamas

This is an article I wrote for Mother's Day. It's lengthy but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.

I was 19 when I became pregnant with my son. I was in the middle of deciding what college I was going to attend and suddenly I had to decide between breast and bottle. I was unmarried and a job at the gap was about as far I had traveled in the professional world. Looking back at that time and observing many inner city communities now, it’s easy to see that motherhood doesn’t always start with “once upon a time.” In many black & Hispanic communities, motherhood is indeed far from the fairytale image. For many, mother encompasses more than the traditional definition. Mothers play the role of mother, father, provider and anything else her family requires. These single mothers, often raised in single-family homes themselves, need the support of their surrounding communities and most important, the men who’ve helped produce their children.
I was born into a family of addicts. We had everything covered from smack to the horse tracks. My parents were never married and after my mother died of a heroin overdose, my grandmother took over my care. Midst her own alcohol demons, my grandmother worked hard to provide for me. She showered me with praise, told me how important it was to finish school and let me know I could be anything I wanted to be in life. She loved me and built in me the foundations of being a loving mother. I didn’t know it then, but what I wanted and needed in addition to that, was a father.
While experiences differ, many young women who grow up without a father are more likely to become pregnant in their teens. This is a reality for many women of color living in inner cities. The perpetuation of this lifestyle has birthed generations of single mothers and has led to the proliferation of the term, “baby mama.” Made popular through hip-hop songs and street jargon, the baby mama connotes more than just a single mother of a child. Its implications, while true in some cases, are for more demoralizing.
In one definition, the urban dictionary describes baby mamas as “ desperate, gold digging, emotionally starved women who had a baby out of spite or to keep a man.” Baby mamas are often depicted in music videos and songs as scorned women only interested in perpetuating drama for the fathers of their children. It’s sad that this image, this label often comes from the very men who father these children. Unable to offer the paternal presence they never received themselves, it is easier for them to justify their absenteeism by tearing down the mothers of their children.
If you take the time to talk to some of these so-called baby mamas, you will find that there are hopes of substance and longevity within these relationships. They are women with dreams and aspirations. Many have subconsciously looked to substitute fatherly love in amorous relationships. Coming from broken homes, these women don’t have a successful example by which to model their own relationships. This coupled with the fact that many of these men who come from fatherless homes and therefore lack paternal fortitude, results in another generation of children with little or no contact with their fathers. Seventy percent of black youths don’t live with their fathers and statistics show that these children are five times more likely to live in poverty and twice as likely to commit crime, drop out of school and/or abuse drugs and alcohol.

Women who fulfill the baby mama stereotype are the exception, not the rule. This misnomer casts a shadow over the majority of real single mothers trying to make it day to day. Midst the derogation, most single mothers fight for the same things their married counterparts fight for: a better life for their young. Some mothers give up themselves for the better of their children while others acquire the skills they need to better themselves and their children. While some mothers are clearly more successful than others, the love and effort for their children should not be discounted.
“Motherhood doesn’t come with a manual,” shares Kim L. of Queens. “As they grow, you grow.”
Jessica F. of Brooklyn says,” Before I was a mom, I never knew how intense it was.”
Jessica was a single mom when her first daughter was born nearly eleven years ago. She didn’t have the support needed from the father. She says her mother, “trial and error” and “motherly instinct” helped her get through the early years. Now in a successful relationship, Jessica has another daughter, but her desires for her children have remained consistent since the birth of her first child.
“I want my daughters to be secure and independent. I don’t want them to need validation from others.”
She also notes the difference in her dealings with her two daughters. Having to play both roles during her first daughter’s early years, she found that she was often harder on her. Not knowing an alternative, she did her best to ensure that her daughter would one day be able to stand on her own. She has the assistance now in raising her daughters and does not have to figure out the father role.
Like Jessica, I dealt primarily with trial and error and motherly instinct to help get through the early years with my son. We had very little monetarily, but the desire to succeed kept me going. I made many mistakes and my son had to deal with more than he should, but I found the support I needed to pull me out of the cycle. Now married, I see more than ever why children need a stable environment. Women need to be supported, especially by the men who come together with them to produce the next generation.
Some people say that your upbringing determines who or what you become. Some say that who you are is determined before birth. Hence, we have the nurture versus nature argument. While there may be exceptions to the rule, I’ve found that in most cases, true nurture will build a roadblock to a destructive path. We need our men to be fathers. We need to build up our little girls….and boys. When we stop tearing down our own, we will begin to raise up a generation purposed to the success of our people and begin to see the death of baby mama type attitudes. Mothers need to be able to provide a different start for their children’s lives to make lasting changes to their futures. Change begins with one person making a stand. Mothers want the best for their children and should be honored for what they do each day. Don’t wait until the second Sunday in May to celebrate mothers: everyday is Mother’s Day.

From one mother to all those out there, I see you and I salute you.

Monday, June 30, 2008

One year is cause for celebration


I finished re-reading a friend's post on a wedding she attended and her feelings regarding her decision to have a civil ceremony. I thought about the realness she spoke of that exists after the newness fades. I have often thought about having a 10 year vow renewal - something simple - perhaps beach front with just a few friends and family. Thinking on this stirs up a bit of excitement but I know more importantly that I need to focus on my "now" success.

I have only been married three years but in that short time I realize that every year of marriage that my husband and I complete is cause for celebration and REAL reflection. I don't mean the traditional anniversary gift and night out together but taking some time and appreciating the fact that "we made it" another year. I heard that one celebrity couple renews their vows every year to put them in remembrance of the commitment they made. They do it with no one looking on and then have a celebration with their family and friends. The core of that struck me. You don't need to wait for a 10 or 25 year mark to renew your vows. You need to keep yourself in remembrance as often as possible. Celebrate each year of success (just the two of you). On that special day, think about: what we can do better this year, what new goals we have and simply let the other know how much we appreciate them.

Maybe most of you do this but speaking for myself, I want to look at my anniversary in a different light. I want to make that ten year mark a celebration of 10 years of celebrating life together.

Wednesday, June 25, 2008

From my Video Twenties to Thirty Something & Med School Bound

So I should be working on the second part of my previous post but have found neither the mind set nor cohesiveness to put it together. I was getting ready for my routine job of washing dishes, picking up every one's things off of the floor, couch and whatever inconceivable spot they managed to stick something when I thought about sharing a little bit of my future ambitions.

Picture it, Harlem, New York, 1984... just kidding. This isn't an episode of the Golden Girls (sorry, you have to know the show to understand that dry joke). Seriously, growing up I wanted nothing else but to be a doctor and a writer. Actually, I figured I would be a doctor who wrote books... but nothing to do with medicine (go figure!). As all of us do in life, I was faced with decisions and didn't make all the best ones. Instead of pre-med at Columbia, I started a two year school with a four month old baby. Without proper guidance, I thought that med school was no longer an option for me and looked for a short way to making money to support my new responsibility. I spent a year there before deciding I needed to be in a four year university where my "brilliance" could be put to use (hey, all those teachers and family members can't be wrong - lol). I worked full time for another year before starting my four year program.

I was now 22 and focused more on the writing part of my hopes and dreams. I was undeclared and bouncing around thoughts of a major until one day it came to me. I wish I could say that there were trumpets blowing and lights shining down from the heavens giving me this grand epiphanic experience... but it was definitely on the lack luster side of the scale. I loved movies, could always pick apart plots before a film would even get underway (I annoyed many of my fellow movie going friends with that one) and thought, "Wow, I could do this!" And at that moment, I had my major: "Media Communications specializing in Film & Video Production". The early part of my studies was in screenwriting and film history (I later graduated with a minor in history- world not film) - it was great. My junior and senior years focused more on the actual production part of filmmaking.

During all this time, I never shook my love of medicine. I didn't speak of it. It almost felt like I shouldn't speak about it but let someone bring up the subject and the little fire in my stomach would flare up. I felt like my time was really over and needed to focus on media. I guess I should have realized that I was still unsure... but hey that's what your twenties are for. Some are sure what they want to do with their lives from day one and some of us want to do so much that our trouble is what to tackle first! I was studying film production, writing a thesis on the Draft Riots of 1863 for my history honors program, researching the effects of HIV/AIDS on Black women for my Scholars fellowship, tutoring/teaching writing, and on top of that, I was trying to think about how to spearhead the next great woman's movement (still working on that one). I should have known my life was anything but ordinary. Anyway, I finally graduated and again faced bringing another little person into the world. I was now 26 with two children doing a little freelance camera work here and there and of all things, teaching to make a living.

I don't want to gloss over this next section because it has a lot to do with where I am now. I spent the next two years of my life not knowing what I was doing. I was often challenged by my dad (also the pastor of my church) to make moves in my field. I didn't understand it the first year and a half but I was frozen with fear. Even though I did take little jobs here and there, I didn't let myself go further. I kept looking at what I thought I didn't know compared to my peers. By the time I really understood that it was fear staring me in the face and that failing at something was better than not doing anything, I was on my way to my third child. It was a rough pregnancy and I could barely move let alone take over the world but my inside wo(man) had changed. By my 28th birthday I had begun offering professional video services and worked freelance on the projects of many of my peers. Whenever I face a new challenge (on any subject or level) and fear rears its ugly head, I ask a simple question, "What's the worst that could happen?" and the answer is always trivial at best... the person says no, i don't get what i want, i have to try again... oooh! Sounds silly, right? but these silly things hold many of us back... not me... not anymore. Now let's back track a little.

During my pregnancy, I had to stay five weeks in the hospital where my baby girl was born. I came to really love and respect my ObGyn. We talked often about life and family. I talked as well with many of the nurses and patient care aids (many of whom were studying to become nurses) and med students. If you're thinking about that fire in my stomach, you are so reading me right now. During one of my follow up appointments, I expressed the desire to possibly go back to school to be a physician's assistant. My Doctor said that it was a great idea, but he said "I hope you don't think you're too old for med school?" I felt like he could see right through me. I just smiled. He went on to tell me how he knew many people much older than me and with far more difficulties in terms of home life and responsibility. He even went on to tell me that his own wife started one career and went back to school and was also an ObGyn. It was a turn around for me.

I went back to school and began taking two of the seven classes I needed to qualify for medical school - it was not easy. My baby was not even one but I stuck it out for one semester. After another heart to heart talk with my dad, I realized something. One, I needed to finish something I started, video production and after a talk with God, I realized two, I was not in some race against time. I had already conquered the big "F" (fear) I knew that there was nothing for me to fear in anything. So what happens if I don't become the top documentary filmmaker? nothing. What happens if I never put my ideas down on paper and film the ones I'm passionate about? I'll have regret. I no longer believe in failure. I think failure is not trying something. There is an opportunity to learn from everything we do so there can never be failure in "doing". I can live with something turning out differently from what what I expected, but I can't live with the "what ifs". We have to stop thinking that we have to be #1 in everything. In some areas, we're meant to help people get to #1 in other areas we're meant to be #1. Life is a co-op. I will keep working my creative talents and cranking out those film projects and I will work towards obtaining my MD.

I am now 30 and getting ready to take another two classes towards medical school. My dad teased me once and asked if I was going to be a doctor at 50? You know something, I will. Although I want to be done with medical school by 36, I'm not pressed for time. Some people would look at my life and think that there's nothing so special about it. I look rather "content" and they would be right about the latter. I'm content because I know I'm doing everything I am suppose to be doing now. I'm working with what's on my plate, scoping out what's in front of me and gleaning what I need from what's behind me. I don't need to look busy. I have much work ahead making sure my family is straight and God already promised He has my back with everything else. Fear knows it has no place anymore in my house... and don't let him take root in yours. I have a lot to offer this world and I've only begun to use my talents. Maybe I won't be a doctor before I'm 50 but guess what? From the words of another mom who went back to school to become an MD: "I'm going to be 50 anyway!

Thursday, June 19, 2008

Puerto Plata part I: "Self Preservation"

It's been twenty four hours since I touched down on American soil.
Honestly, although my body is present, my heart is still in the Dominican Republic. I spent five days and four nights in the beautiful city of Puerto Plata. I traveled with my soon to be 83 year old grandmother (don't let the number fool you - she's got a lot of bite left in her bark). As a child, I never vacationed - unless you count that one trip to Florida when I was nine... and no I DIDN'T go to Disney. My grandmother worked hard and didn't know the meaning of getting away. This was a special trip because it was our first trip anywhere together, her first time on a plane and her first time out of the country. Getting her to go was (excuse the cliche) like pulling teeth. Her biggest problem was the airplane. Let's just say that while she was amazed by the flight, she never took her eyes off the wing. With light hearts, we arrived at our resort - The Grand Oasis Marien. This resort is already beautiful... no GORGEOUS and they are about to open the new additions at the end of next month. This was my first vacation without my family and might I add - MUCH NEEDED.

As I began my five day - four night get away, I thought about my grandmother and how much stress she has endured in her life. Even as a young girl, I knew that I wanted a different life for myself and my family. I wanted pictures on my wall and little to no drama (without going into much detail, we dealt with all kind of "ictions & isms" in my house. Couple that with four generations under one roof and needless to say it was at best, explosive). A decade plus some later, and here I lay under the same sun I see in New York but in someone else's backyard paradise. I lay thinking how I've already done more for myself in terms of enjoying life than my grandmother ever allowed herself to do. While I appreciate all that she has done for me, I know that in order to keep my world right, I have to have time for myself away from the usual. We "worry" (even if we don't admit to it or choose to use that word) about what we will do with our lives, what our children will do with their lives, money, relationships, family, possessions but too many of us don't take time to relax and take care of ourselves. We forget that if we don't take care of ourselves, we will be of no good use to our spouses, children or other significant loved ones. With this very much in mind, I lay on the beach, by the pool, took long walks, had an afternoon at the spa and relaxed.

Thursday, June 5, 2008

More than a Scarf


A little history on headwraps.

You can preview this book through google.


Getting Back to Our Roots without Tearing Them Out

Besides my weakened edges, (brought on by the tight pontytails of my tween years) I have been blessed with a full head of growing hair. As a child, I had hairstyles consisting of variations of one to four ponytails, braids pinned to the top of my head, tons of bobby pins and lets not forget the inches of ribbon hanging from each braid (my grandmother bought them in bulk). My grandmother was unskilled in the art of cornrowing so I was instead subjected to painful combing on a daily basis. Washing was what I could only describe as a suffocating mini-drama. The early years had me laid across our washing machine (it sat next to our porcelain double sink) with my head hanging under the raised faucet. The later years saw me standing over the deep sink while my long tresses and steam stifled the flow of air to my lungs (I was well into my teens/early adulthood before I could wash my hair in the sink without having to carefully think through each breath). My grandmother had done everything under the sun to her hair (she described it as having "fried and died" her hair) and she refused to let anyone get near me with even a THOUGHT of a hot comb let alone anything that came out of a lab - that was until about the fifth grade.

Somewhere around my eleventh year, my grandmother could no longer take my anguishing cries for mercy and with much pain in her heart, sent me to a trusted beautician for a "kiddie perm". I thought it was neat that a fine toothed comb could run from root to end without losing any teeth! I was able to get the "cute" shirley temple styles and I didn't look like the "sun" when I washed my hair (This was what my cousin said during our childhood to describe my hair after it was washed. He annoyed me with that). Beyond this teasing, I was never made to feel like there was something wrong with my hair. On the contrary, I was always told that my hair was beautiful. I heard this from family, friends and strangers (I point this out for a reason).

Fast forward three years. I am now in high school and have already grown tired of the
process to which my hair had been subjected. I was not very good at taking care of my hair and had experienced breakage at the very back of my hair at least once every year since I had begun relaxing it. I decided that I would reclaim my natural roots. I had become very taken by locs and approached my grandmother with the idea of letting me loc up. Let's just say the conversation including the words "not" & "under my roof." I was unfortunately ignorant to what going natural meant. Before long, my hair was at battle with itself and after about four or five months, Dark n Lovely prevailed. It was very disheartening but I resigned myself to the burning of the "no lye" relaxer and the $10 Dominican wash and set to seal the deal.

Fast forward to college and I was finally on my way to my first set of locs (i have had two sets and will undoubtedly don a third... maybe even a fourth during my life). The first few months were trying but patience prevailed and I soon had the natural beautiful locs I had always wanted. Now, due to some personal reasons and direction from my Father in heaven, I had to do some searching and went through some cutting. During that time I have rocked everything from a big afro, twists, a boy cut and even a short curly fro. This brings me to the heart of this blog.

Having lived on both sides of the fence, I know that natural is the way for me. I love myself in every way and don't feel the pressure that some black people feel to have to straighten their hair. While saying that, I in no way look down on the sista who wants to press, perm or rock her weave. It is a blatant fact that black people have been systematically made to feel inferior to the whiter world in which we live. So many of us are brainwashed to the extent that we perpetuate these thoughts into our own children. I have heard black people make comments, in the presence of children, about "good" hair, nappy hair, and many other ignorant statements that point to natural hair being less than desirable. I despise
any action that results in any person feeling inadequate in any way! You might say that because of this any one with true consciousness should embrace their natural self and reject the trend of pressing and perming because of where and why these things are in existence. I hear that and in many ways agree... but where's the balance?

I am a woman. I am a black woman. I am a black, conscious woman... and guess what? sometimes I like to rock a headwrap with a skirt and sometimes I like to rock an afro with my converse and then there are those days where I like to put on a pretty dress with four inch heels... I LOVE self expression. STOP thinking that every woman walking around in a weave and extensions is closeting self hate. Contrary to the stereotype, I have plenty of friends with long, thick hair who occasionally get a weave just so they don't have to do their hair during the summer or while on vacation. I'm aware that this is often the exception and not the rule but our attitudes have to change. Don't define me or others by your issues. I'm tired of us beating up ourselves. LOVE yourself. Teach our youth to love who God made them. Love your brothers and sisters. If we could just do that, we wouldn't spend so much time tearing each other down and we would really be able to reach that sister or brother who has been taught to think that they are imperfect the way God made them. Let's question conformity but let's not get so caught up in our personal causes that they cease to inspire change and instead become destructive.

Monday, June 2, 2008

Who Do I Say I Am?

Woman, Artist, Wife, Mother, Daughter, Friend, Future = Amoi

I often reflect on the different components of my life. I think about what I have accomplished, what I have in the works and what I have yet only dared to conceive. It is easy to be looked at and defined by others simply based on a role you play. It is up to you to accept that definition or to define yourself by the sum of your parts. My life is just beginning and I will not let anyone define me. I am the sum of my parts and what I do today builds tomorrow... What are you doing today?