No Man Should Be an Island (Except Me)

Introversion. It is a personality trait that is recognizably undesired in the eyes of society. As an introverted person, you're seen as somebody shy, aloof, quiet, a loner, and maybe socially awkward. In reality, to be an introvert means to value your own energy and to spend it conservatively on individuals and things that matter to you the most. To be an introvert, really, is to recharge from the inside out, not from the outside in. Introverts don't need quantity; we crave quality. We are the choosiest when it comes to all kinds of relationships, whether it be familial, friendship, romance, or business. Perhaps, maybe, I should only speak for myself when it comes to the former. Okay...I haven't always been the choosiest when it came to romance. 

Nevertheless, as a child, I received messages from society that being an introvert was synonymous with being a shy person. An introverted child was a "weird" child. They were defined as individuals who have difficulties socializing and playing with others (rather than it being defined as a simple disinterest). They were the kids who sat alone at school lunch tables, who lived in a world inside of themselves, and didn't measure their worth by the number of friends who would invite them to group trips or group birthday party celebrations. Not to mention, introverted individuals were often written off as having less leadership potential due to their lack of outspokenness and their inability to command the room as they enter it. Yes, I was a shy kid. However, not every introvert is built alike. There are other introverts who aren't afraid of public speaking or holding a conversation with a random person at the nearest coffee shop. Personally, I am still working on taming the hairs that stand up on the back of my neck when someone says hello. 

Throughout my adolescent and young adult years, I would make innumerable attempts to stomp out the disease of introversion. I would sign up for meet and greets to sit at a bar with other women who had much bigger personalities and social adeptness, as I wrestled with myself on why I even signed up for something like that in the first place. For starters, I hated alcohol. Everything from friendship apps, going to parties, attending workshops and seminars, talking to people at work, and even going to Toastmasters, was a constant reminder that I simply did not enjoy the presence of many people, no matter how hard I tried to feel the opposite. This was not felt on a malicious level (though sometimes I admit, I do have my days), but was apathetic. The number of people that I could be around or who knew my name did not matter to me. I never craved many connections. I've always craved genuine, strong connections, even if it was with just one person; even if that person was me. As I got older, well into my 30s, my inner compass continued to scream this truth louder and louder. 

The difference between now and when I was still coming into myself was the overwhelming need for the approval of others. In the past, I tried to change who I was because I perceived myself to be abnormal. I felt like a broken wine glass; something that was supposed to look refined and sophisticated, but failed to hold a sufficient amount of Chardonnay.  It felt like doomsday whenever I walked into a crowded room. It still does, but the only difference between then and now is that I give myself permission to feel uncomfortable instead of feeling shame. Then, I proceed to introduce myself anyway. I experience the nervous stomach and the heart pounding out of my chest. I experience awkward pauses whenever I stumble over my words. Finally, I let go of all expectations and just be myself. 

Introversion is its own superpower. I choose how I want to give myself energetically and socially. When I do, it is precious. Additionally, as a "shy" introvert (the two are not the same), I accept who I am while sharpening my communication skills. This is especially true when it comes to networking within the workplace and other professional settings. It may require more work than the average person, but I also observe, analyze, study, take notes, move when necessary, move in silence, and carry a quiet confidence. That is my superpower, not my weakness. 

I'm honestly still working on the quiet confidence part...

6 Years Later... and I'm Still Here

 Same-ish, different day. 

It has been a harrowing six years since my last blog post. Humanity survived the COVID-19 global pandemic, but unfortunately, too many of us have passed away. We also survived the first Trump election, followed by the Biden election, a war between Ukraine and Russia, a broken economy that resulted in massive layoffs and job insecurity due to COVID-19, and Donald Trump is currently serving his second term. As I write this, we are at war with Iran. Oil, home, and food prices have skyrocketed indefinitely. Some of this is due to inflation, and the other part is due to the decision-makers in our government. There is a lot to be said about what has been going on politically, but I want to keep things as neutral as possible. The fact is, there are people with different views, some more left-leaning and others more right-leaning. To me, the only thing that matters is common ground. What do we all want at the end of the day? We want basic necessities to be affordable across the board, regardless of income level, social status, ethnicity, etc. That includes healthcare, housing, food, and education. We also want to have all the protections of the Constitution when it comes to basic human rights and privileges.  That is it, that is all. 

However...

In the six years since I left this blog space (up until now), I've learned that to benefit those at the top, there needs to be people at the bottom to suffer or go without. That is the result of Capitalism. Money and profits over the well-being of the people, which literally keep this country and its corporations alive and well. 

No, I don't have the answers. No,  I have no plan or solution. I am just a cog in a wheel, just like everyone else in this country, or hell, the whole planet. As depressing as this sounds, it is not the end of the world when it comes to enjoying one's life. Here's to another six years of finding joy despite any distractions, destruction, or corruption that may come into our lives. Some will be within our control, some won't be. No matter how this year and beyond go, I am determined to remain optimistic. What other choices do we have?

31 and Childless. Why Motherhood Scares Me.

I was 10 years old when I decided to not become a mother until age 30. By then I projected that I was going to have house, be married, and make a ton of money. Well, I'm 31. And I make a decent salary; not 6 figures but I'm financially comfortable. I'm still working on getting the house and the husband (that's another blog post).

I am 31 and childless by choice. Besides my personal beliefs and family upbringing that has influenced my decision up to this point, I am childless because I am terrified of motherhood. It was always a looming shadow above me during adolescence, as if it was expected of me to eventually give birth to offspring. Society was telling me "You're a girl. Of course you'll have children one day" but I don't particularly remember being absolutely thrilled about the thought of having children. Like...ever.

When I was 14, I excelled in school and was chosen to enroll in a day camp at the University of Maryland for future women engineers. I was sitting among my fellow, middle school aged peers in a small auditorium. We were powering light bulbs with lemon batteries and learning how to implement Newton's laws while designing different "roller coasters". One of the instructors got up in the middle of the auditorium and gleefully said "I'm an engineer, a teacher, and a mom. You all will be engineers and have families too!" I and the girl sitting next to me stared at each other and laughed. I distinctly remember saying "I'm never having kids!". School meant more to me. Having an exciting career that I absolutely loved meant more to me. Success meant more to me. Money meant more to me and I couldn't wait to one day manifest it all.

Even in college, I've dated men who wanted kids. One guy told me that I'd eventually change my mind. I stopped seeing him. As far as another guy that I was dating, I later told him that I had no interest in having children. Needless to say, he moved on. I was a sophomore in college, feeling sexually liberated for the first time, and still trying to figure out who I was and what I wanted for my future. Children were the furthest thing from my mind and I felt that it always would be.

Fast forward to today, I've been on countless dates between my early and mid twenties and have entered into a long term relationship. I've religiously used condoms during my dating era and plan b's when birth control wasn't in the picture. Even took pregnancy tests just to be certain that I wasn't pregnant if my period didn't come soon enough. Not to mention, having an irregular menstrual cycle never helped ease my anxiety at all.

Point 1: The thought of becoming pregnant, to me, is not a good trade off. 

Pregnancy looks painful. The entirety of it seems like gut wrenching torture mixed with only a pinprick of good times. What exactly is so blissfully attractive about going through nine whole months of having my body becoming gradually distorted and swollen to the point of puffy ankles and a bad back? And the vomiting. Some pregnant women don't at all. But some women are lucky to have Hyperemesis Gravidarum (extreme nausea and vomiting during pregnancy) everyday for the entire 9 months. What if my pregnancy causes me to become one of those "lucky" women? To chance it, I'd rather not. In fact, getting shot sounds better.

Maybe all of that plus going through the painful birthing process is a labor of love. And perhaps it's a love that's strong enough to want to do it again and again (like most women do). But to me, it doesn't sound worth it. There's not a large enough reward of oxytocin in the world.

Point 2: Motherhood never ends. It keeps going till death. Is that really something I want?

Once the kid is here. It's here. I would be stuck with the role of Mother for as long as I live (the exception being a closed adoption). No matter how tired, drained, sick, exhausted, stressed, depressed, or over worked I feel, I would still have to mother 24 hours a day and 7 days a week. It's absolute, endless mothering. No wonder society has to trick girls into wanting that role by giving us cute and innocent looking dolls and toys geared towards becoming and being maternal. It's utter brainwashing in my opinion. Otherwise, what reason would there be for us to continue the human race? In reality, it doesn't look fun. It isn't fun (for the most part). But society has to make it look fun, interesting, fulfilling, and even go as far as telling women that they're less valuable if they don't do it.

Point 3: What if I'm not exactly, "mother" material?

Here's is a hard truth that I'm willing to face now. Kids just aren't into me. I don't know how to make a baby laugh or let alone hold one properly. The first time I ever changed a diaper was a diabolical disaster. I am AWKWARD AS HELL around babies and kids. I don't really know how to talk to them, entertain them, be stern with them when need be. Maybe it's because I simply...don't have that magic with kids like a lot of people do (or at least it seems that way). I'm robotic. Stoic. Taciturn. Clueless. I wish I was different. I wish I knew how to be that woman who's the ideal future mom. However, I'm not. And to be perfectly honest, I still wonder to myself if that's just who I'm meant to be or if it's something that I have to get over.

Motherhood scares the living shit out of me. I've watched the women in my life do it and I've seen how thankless it is. Do I want to sign up for that? Or should I just stick to being child free and continue doing my own thing? However, as much as I'm feeling that I don't want that way of life, on some days I also feel like this is something that I do want to experience deep down. Having a nuclear family with  my future husband is something that I often think about. But is it something that I can realistically devote my all to? The answer...I have no idea.

When Checking out of Blackness... Means that You Can't.

These past couple of days have been overwhelming for me.

On top of getting ready to start a new job, re-organizing my personal life and priorities, patching things up with family, and trying to stay sane as a regular human being...here comes the more social media drama about what Kanye West said.

Here comes more news about another unarmed black man being shot by the police.
Here comes another Alt Right march.
Here comes more news about black children being denied the right to wear their hair in braids or dreadlocks in school.
Here comes Donald Trump
Here comes black people defending black sexual predators because they're rich.
Here comes the 40% statistic of black men being unable to find gainful employment.
Here comes another black documentary about the above-mentioned statistic and WHY
Here come all the other statistics that come with being born poor AND black.
And so on...and so on...and so on...and so on...

These past couple of days, I just wanted the wheel to stop. I stepped away from social media and other media outlets for the most part. I feel myself getting agitated and depressed. There are honestly some days like today that I just want to take a break from being a "black" person. There are times when I just want to literally step away from this suit everyone sees as melanated skin, take a step back, and take a long hiatus before putting it back on. It is mentally and emotionally exhausting to be a black person.

I hate having to think about how others may perceive me. I hate that blackness is always the topic of discussion and controversy within and outside of my community.  I hate that I always have to prove to myself and to others that I'm capable of doing anything that I set my mind to and that skin color doesn't have shit to do with IQ or intellectual ability. I hate all of the political drama that comes with blackness and having to explain myself EVERY TIME when someone of a different ethnicity asks me, "Why is there a Black History Month?". Being black means having to explain your very existence sometimes. As if you shouldn't even be here. Or that you're a mistake; a fluke that nature mysteriously allowed. And worst of all, BLACK PEOPLE TREAT OTHER BLACK PEOPLE THIS WAY but it's NEVER acknowledged. We will defend the predators and excuse the perpetrators of violence within our own communities, but absolutely refuse to support those that are trying to do the right thing. We perpetuate ignorance and superstition then claim to be "enlightened". Over 70% of black children are born out of wedlock. A high percentage of black babies are being aborted. Over 50% of marriages end in divorce. 60% of black girls are molested before the age of 18. 33% of black males will be incarcerated before the age of 35. And I'm done.

Nobody wants to come up with any type of solution to our issues and the rest of the world damn sure isn't trying to either. I'm tired of thinking about it. But I have to. I'm tired of being black some days, but I need to be. Because that is what I am. I have to take the good, the bad, the beautiful, and the ugly. I have to look deep within myself and find strength every single day. Because being part of a community that has been sick and fractured for centuries is not a cakewalk. It feels like a curse most days. 

I love my skin. I love my hair texture. I love my African features. But I don't love our stigma. I don't love our pain. And I don't love being one of many carrying the burden of having to be a representation of an entire group of people. I just want to be an individual and to be judged as such. But I also have a responsibility. And that responsibility is to stay black, and to proudly display that within my work and life. Even if through occasional frustration and tears.

8 Hilarious Signs that You might be an Introvert

1. When you like food more than you like people...

2. Netflix and chill literally means Netflix and chill.

3. The thought of being alone never terrifies you but instantly gives you a tiny high. 

4. Talking hurts your soul. You'd rather do it only if it is absolutely necessary...like giving a presentation or a speech. 

5. If your circle of friends or social buddies is smaller than the size of an atom.

6. Sweet silence.

7. ...And sleep (enough said).

8. When you respond to a text message...3-5 days later. 

How Do We Raise Confident Black Children?

My boyfriend and I had a serious discussion recently about our possible, future children. They will obviously be black. They may or may not be born during the Trump presidency (depending on whether he gets a second term), and on top of being born into a society that largely de-humanizes them, they will also be born into a fractured black community that de-values them. Sadly, we both came to the conclusion that due to our current situation as a community, it would be best to raise our future child/children to be confident, self-assured individuals and to not focus on being seen as part of something that is apparently broken nearly beyond repair on a collective level. We decided to also raise our future child/children to remember the sacrifices that our ancestors and elders have made and to strive toward excellence as a repayment for those sacrifices.

Yes, there will be racism. Yes, there will be social obstacles and labels that people will place on them because of their skin color. But we hope to make them strong enough to navigate around that and to push through those negative messages because there are many examples of others who have done it before them. But how do we make them confident enough to do that? As much as I want to raise them in a vacuum, there is still television, social media, news outlets, and real life situations that will remind our future child/children of their misconceived inferiority as black people. There is also colorism in our community, violence, sexual abuse, hyper-masculinity, toxic feminism, fractured unity, mediocrity, mental illness, poverty, and an overall disrespect of things that have intrinsic value over monetary value (E.g materialism). How do we raise confident black children in between two worlds that feel like are against them?

I reflect on my own life and think about how I overcame such obstacles and are continuing to overcome them. I was written off at an early age by educators who said that I would become nothing. Fast forward, I overcame molestation, depression/suicidal tendencies, got my B.S in biochemistry, interned and worked at some of the top universities in the country, went to scientific meetings and conferences, written over 1000 poems, travelled internationally and across the country, I currently have a career working in the biotech industry, never turned to drugs or alcohol, never been to prison, and I'm in a healthy relationship with myself and with another person. Still, I am striving to be and to do more. How did I acquire confidence as a black person in this country and in this world? Though not perfect, how did I turn out to be a decent human being despite all of my previous obstacles?

The most straight forward answer that I can give and that I hope to pass down to my own child/children one day is this...Uniqueness and a belief that everyone is placed on this Earth to be great at something. Find your greatness and never let someone deter you from that journey as an individual. This is independent of social constructs and labels based upon skin color. No matter what society says, only you can determine your future. If others have done it before you, there is really no excuse. 

Turning 29 and Lessons That I Learned Throughout This Decade.

29 is here and I'm ecstatic at the level of maturity and mental strength that I've acquired throughout the past decade. To celebrate my journey, here are 10 lessons that I've learned as I reach towards the end of my twenties:

1. Be humble (In Kendrick Lamar's voice). Believe it or not, I'm still learning this. I'm learning to not portray myself as more than what I am and to remember my journey through life as just a journey, no matter what progress I may make in the future. Whether it be professionally, economically, or socially. Most critically, I'm continuing to learn not to readily judge others, but to judge myself only. Because EVERYBODY has skeletons and NOBODY is perfect. God knows, I'm not. 

2. Just do it.  I learned that seeking approval or guidance from others is human nature, but at the end of the day, I have to be the one to still make that major life decision and live with those choices. I learned to just independently make a decision and make it with the understanding that I am the only one in control of my life, nobody else. And if I really want to do something,  I must weigh out my options, do the research, look at the pros and cons, seek a second opinion (if necessary) and just do it and not solely depend on other people's approval. 

3. Mental Health is Wealth. I historically have neglected my mental health during my adolescent years and early to mid twenties. There were times when I needed to speak to a therapist but imploded in on myself from a lack of self-love and care. I learned that on top of me being a flawed human being, I also need to take the time out to make sure that I am healthy mentally and emotionally. Therapy is good. Whether it is professional therapy or healthy self-therapy (journaling, exercise, spa day, etc).

4. Financial literacy matters. Emergency funds are important. Retirement is important. Multiple streams of income are important. Investing is important. CREDIT SCORES ARE IMPORTANT. I knew these things but failed to apply them to my life due to negligence and impulse. I am currently positioning myself better financially by reading books, listening to podcasts, and learning different ways to manage my money better. Though not all the way there, I am getting better at budgeting and managing my urges to buy things on impulse. And to keep my account from overdrafting (small victories).  

5. Shit happens. Though you are in control of most of the things in your life, there are some things that happen that are out of your control. I've learned to accept those things as they come and try to overcome them the best way I can. 

6. Failure is a teacher; not a life sentence. I look at failure as a teacher now rather than a tool that measures my intrinsic value as a person. If I fail at something, I analyze the reasoning behind my failure, learn from it, then I go at it again with a more mature mind or take a different approach. Overcoming a failure or at least not letting it define your life is always better than emotionally abusing yourself over it and never changing for the better. 

7. As an adult, you are responsible for your own self-esteem. No more putting up with people or situations that put me down to intentionally hurt or break me. I learned to differentiate between constructive criticism and emotional abuse. I'm still learning to encourage myself whenever I need encouragement, to affirm my uniqueness, inner beauty, outer beauty and intelligence. There is only one me and I am focusing on becoming the best version of myself only.

8. You never stop growing. There is no magical age number where you've suddenly figured life out in its entirety. There is always something that I'm improving on and there's always something that I have yet to find the answers to. 

9. Life isn't a race, it's a marathon. I've slowly began to realize that life isn't a race, but really a marathon. Life is about endurance more so than who can reach the finish line the fastest...whatever that finish line is. 

10. Relationships aren't easy. They take work. Even if it's the relationship you have with yourself. I learned that fairy tales are fairy tales. They don't exist. Real relationships take a lot of effort to maintain. It's a dirty job. The beautiful part is loving one another (or yourself) unconditionally and seeing how that alone can make that relationship stronger.