Right Now I'm...

follow me on Twitter

Your Joy





Every now and again it hits me pretty hard that my daddy's gone.

I'm still dealing... but I realize it's alone - because bringing it up to my mom makes her grieve... and bringing it up to my brother brings apathy. I do miss the part of him that I liked. Which in hindsight was a few things. Not a lot... but they were really like able. It was just so long ago...

I remember just wishing i knew him better so I could like him like everyone else did.

I find myself still wishing that.

*

Low.

So usually... I get drunk to tap into the latent happiness that I feel..

But I'm tipsy now and all I can feel is sadness. I hope I get past this soon...

*

Uprooted

It's no secret that I LOVE my cultural background. I've been proud to be a Haitian woman since the day I could speak. I was outward with it when it was MOST unpopular. When there were check boxes on the blood donor forms that asked if you were of "Haitian descent" and I proudly checked "YES" - not knowing that they would tell me that in my blood sample they saw that I was low on iron... or that it seemed I had a "cold" so I couldn't give blood "this time" ... mmm hmm. Still didn't change my answer. I'd be in a cab or in an elevator and hear a familiar accent and ask that person if they were Haitian. I dealt with years of my countrymen getting all shifty eyed and defensive and have to allay them with ... "wait... I am too... it's okay..." - And only at that point would we have a joyous reunion all held in Kreyol: "You're Haitianne? Were you born here? Where are your parents from? What's your last name? OH... I have Cantave in my family!!! or... I went to School with a Cantave" It's the main reason I shrug off Wyclef being our so-called "saviour". So many people say to me "Wyclef made it cool for y'all to be Haitian". No other statement makes me want to invert myself more. Because I CERTAINLY didn't wait for Wyclef to feel cool about being a child of Hispaniola. I didn't even KNOW who Wyclef was as I was proclaiming my allegiance from the rooftops.

It's during the holidays that I feel my heritage the most. It's when everyone wants to make their home into back home. It's when grandmas start making beignets for breakfast and caramelizing sugar for tablette pistache and boiling evaporated milk and whipping out the bottles of Barbancourt to make puncha crema and Cremasse. Someone calls saying that they just came back from the island and brought some Anisette and Creme de Menthe with a few pans of Pain Patate and some bags of AK-100 (ah-ka-cent) powder and are looking forward to joining us for dinner this afternoon (Haitian dinners are at 4:00PM) The orders go in for pâte - morue, viende et poulet. Dad brought home the jon jon and lima beans to make what Americans now know as "black rice" but what we call du ris ac jon jon and some prime pork medallions to begin the griot stewing. The French carols are wafting on the scents in the house and Grandma quietly hums along as we peel potatoes, yams and carrots for the bouillon on the stove. Il est né, le divin Enfant, Minuit! Chrétiens! and Beau Sapin were always some of my favorites. Cousins are just coming back from the mass of the day and greedily inhaling the scents and inquiring about the readiness of everything as they stick their noses in steaming pots to get a better whiff. Subsequently chased from the kitchen with wooden spoons and whisks in mom, auntie and grandma's hands. More guests arrive. The men are watching sports... EVERYONE is yelling - the youngest kids are clanging plates as they've been ordered to set the table. The food makes it out of the kitchen in steaming casserole pots and embellished plates. Then everything gets quiet for a mighty long time. During the eating. After the eating with the digestion and the heavy sighs of contentment. The house gets good and quiet till it's time to decide who is gonna wash the dishes. Then there are arguments amongst the kids. But the adults are fine. They're playing board games or sitting with un tasse café et bon bon l'amidon and discussing politics, plans to go back home followed by the statement of how bagai pa bon lakay. The night wears on, guests begin to put on their coats and say 5 or 10 goodbyes. The truth is no one wants to leave. Kilè nous prale wè is whispered in hugs and promises to be back for Easter or the summer. Offers to come spend a few weeks in Haiti ac famille'ou in the year to come are offered. Then the house is empty again - but not really - everyone's feeling REALLY good.

I haven't had a Christmas like that in a long time. I really miss it. Grandma, Dad and a BUNCH of constant cousins have passed on. And everyone left over is too old or doesn't feel like trying anymore. But my memories of those wonderful afternoons are sharp and clear. I often wonder to myself if I'll have them when I have kids. It'll be hard. I don't live in a Haitian household anymore. It will be difficult to pass my language and culture on to my children and have it be more than just a footnote in their lives. It meant so much for me to feel like an American with strong Haitian roots for my children to mention it in passing that they have Haitian IN their family... rather than BEING Haitian in America.

I guess only time will tell...

*

Take Me Away

Merry Christmas (a little belated) everyone!

I had mixed feelings this Christmas. This was my first married Christmas and although funds didn't allow us to really lavish each other with beautiful gifts or any kind of extravagance, we did manage to squeeze out just enough for a little tree, which I love and have taken pictures of to be posted later. I thought that this year, due to the lack of funds, I'd be so sad or all down in the mouth. But I woke up Christmas day and I dunno if it was the fact that I didn't HAVE to go to work or didn't have to be anywhere in particular - or if it was the fact that neither did my hubby, so we get to spend yet another day and night in quiet marital bliss... or if it was that he cooked breakfast for me... or if it was that the cable company came on Christmas morning to fix our internet that had been out for 3 days... Whatever it was, I felt energized... excited everytime I looked at our simple little tree; peaceful knowing that this was the first of many married Christmases. JUST AS EXCITED as if there were a thousand gifts under the tree to wake up and BE! I was like... a little kid on Christmas morn. I had all that I needed: the love of my hubby; the warmth piping through the radiators; good food; good tv and quiet solace. IT WAS PERFECT.

I should have stayed there.

Around 11 AM, my mommy calls me. At first I get excited because I called her at midnight to wish her a Merry Christmas - I knew she was feeling down being her first Christmas w/o daddy and all. So I wanted to try to instill that feeling. That Christmas emotion. To no avail of course - so I was hoping the 11 AM call was her giving into the Christmas excitement. Quite the opposite though. Her brother / my uncle, who now lives in Huntington, was having Christmas dinner and REFUSED to take no as an answer from her and was coming to literally drag her out to his house to be amongst the living. She was calling me looking for a sympathizer. She'd find none in our household. In fact, I told her I'd meet her out there and have dinner with them. She hated me for my response and basically hung up. Not before letting me know that she had no intention of staying for dinner on account of the constant nausea she's been feeling - so I better get there and get there fast. (Lemme not delve too far into the fact that my brother managed to weasel his way out of going because he was sick *wink wink nudge nudge*. By the way... he's ALWAYS effin sick. *rolls eyes*)

Okay - so instead of seeing my MIL first (mother-in-law for the ones that don't know and for the sickos who were like "she forgot the F")... my hubby and I agreed to go straight out to Huntington for 5 (which is when we were told the food would be served. After an hour out from Brooklyn, we arrived at 5:16. Got to the door where we could see into the living room - and there sat my mother. In a chair separate from everyone. Arms crossed over her stomach. Staring off into the distance while conversations went on around her. It was VERY The Color Purple when Sophia came back from the jail cell. I thought to myself - it'll change as soon as i get there. Wishful thinking. It did not. She was just as cold and unresponsive to me. Oh yeah... because I didn't come to her rescue and tell my uncle what an ogre he was for taking her away from her everyday. I tried hard to get her to open up and talk to me... And if she was a pinhole when I got there she MAY have been about as open as the eye of a needle by the end of a night. Which really isn't progress. She was truly miserable.

Then to add insult to injury, my aunt & uncle didn't serve food till 8:10PM. Let's count together, kids - mom had been there since 2. I got there at 5. So she had to wait 6 hours. And I had to wait 3. She was just about livid. And I was pretty peeved that the timing was SO off. And on account of that, we'd not be able to get to see my MIL. So, trying to grasp a little joy, upon finally being seated at the dinner table, the grace began to be said. My uncle requested the Lord's Prayer in French - which for whatever reason NEVER got ingrained into my head. So I mouthed the English version. Just as we got to the end... and were about to sit... My aunt chimes in... with the prayer of the miserable. Let's remind ourselves of everyone that died and made us sad this year. Top of the list? Dad. GREAT. So much for offering a healthy distraction to my mom. Back to the pinhole. She clammed up for the rest of the night and would only really respond to her brother. Didn't speak a word the the whole hour long ride home. Just wallowed in misery, right in the back of my very happy car.

All I could really wish for, was to find a way to get away. I know it's unChristian. I know it's unFamilylike. I know it's damn near inhuman. I just want to get away from miserable people. I don't understand what they don't get about the one thing that IS constant in this world. WE ALL LEAVE. Eventually. No one stays. I could understand how we'd find it unfair if there were some folks that lived forever and the rest of us don't. But the bottom line is that we all die. Every single one of us. So... wouldn't that knowledge make us cherish all the moments we have even more? I don't want to be surrounded by misery. ESPECIALLY from my family. But they seem to be the ones who want to bring it to me most. Even my dad's spirit in my dreams comes to irritate me. Never to bring any good or grand news. Just to make me mad. My brother and his shiftlessness has just about reached a boiling point for me and I can't STAND to want more for him than he wants for himself. And then there's my mom. My 66 year old mother who is more like 87. I know 70 year olds in my chapter with more vitality and life and health and excitement about the moments than she's EVER had. And what stings more is that everyone's answer to me about instilling life into her is for me to have a kid. You know what.

NO.

What about me and my brother? Is that no longer reason enough to want to live and enjoy life and be excited about what few moments you have? I have to bring a whole other life into the world for her to be happy about the life she already had?? It seems preposterous to me. And an insult. Because when I sit there and wallow in my self pity for the 15 minutes that I do from time to time and consider bringing my years to an end way earlier than I should - the FIRST REASON THAT SNAPS ME BACK IS MY MOM. I just imagine how painful that'd be for her - to lose me before she went. Shit - the last time I went to see her, she snapped on me about these scars that were really prevalent on my face and I have attacked them Ambi products out the wazoo (which really works by the way) JUST SO SHE COULD BE HAPPIER TO SEE ME. But she's not. And she won't be and I'm not reason enough to try. But she's reason enough for me.

I just wish I could hide from the misery in my little apartment with my husband and be happy for weeks at a time. Months even... Maybe years. I think I deserve uninterrupted happiness... Even if it's just for a little while.

*

Enough

Okay so it's been a minute. Yadda yada. I know. I'm here.

So... I have on my heart the heaviness of ... hmmm. I'm not sure if I have the words to describe it. I'll try.

Ever love something or someone so much... willing to give your life to that person or things benefit... do all there is in your power to bring it/him/her to higher heights - even if it means you personally sliding back in your own ambitions? Ever want to dedicate yourself to that end and provide hours upon hours of your personal time... night or day to see that object of affection ascend and become better than you (or maybe it / he / she) ever imagined?

Ever get to the point that after years and years of mental, physical and spiritual devotion you turn around and say to yourself...

WHAT THE HELL FOR???

It's thankless. It's painful. You reap ZERO rewards from it. You've lost focus on yourself and the things that matter to you because you've been so razor focused on trying to direct your energies to this one goal - that isn't even YOURS???

Something has held my attention for years. Thinking about it, praying on it and being involved in it has held me in an emotional holding pattern. After an experience I had over the weekend, I'm finally ready to let go.

I've been to this point a few times in my life. Leaving the business. Leaving Vanguarde. Leaving a number of love interests. I am finally ready to this ideal behind. Of course, I've been dubbed the Queen of Cryptic. Those who know me well, know what I'm talking about and they're all the ones who count. And to those who don't - I urge you to know your limits, spend your energies wisely and devote only when you KNOW it will be 100% reciprocated.

Otherwise....

have enough...

*

Herstory...


... repeats itself....



Run

Feverish
pushing
pounding the pavement
trying to keep my mind
and body from falling
as my heart lunges me forward
to run
run away from hurt and fear
run away from that moment
we just made
where you shoved past me
saying "i'll call you"
My back aches with the
weight of my heart
as I stumble to some destination
and my eyes water from
the pain of you saying,
"you don't understand"
because I do
and the feeling is so distant
that the memory of enduring
is muted.
i can't expect you to do that
and i should expect you to do
what you must
but the india ink of our
memory is all over my hands
and face and lips and stomach
and everywhere I've held when I
cry
and I've scrubbed my mind
raw to remove it and the painful
awareness
like a salted tongue in my open wound
that you've said
goodbye...

4tress
200103191904

Wouldn't No One Else Were

(a quote from Beyonce herself upon accepting an award from BET years ago, praising them for being the only ones to play Destiny's Child videos when... "wouldn't no one else were...")

There are somethings in life that you go through alone - no matter how many friends you have. No matter how much family surrounds you. You face these battles on a field with you and your issue... and those are the only warriors that count. Folks can offer you advice and moral support all they'd like, but ultimately... it's you and the problem. It's very lonely. It's extremely frightening and can just send you spiraling into depression, sometimes. Some things make you want to lay down and hope to not get up anytime soon. But most of us have that tiny voice inside that tells you to get up and fight. Whether you win or lose - it'll only matter to you. No one else will really understand what you went through or the transformation that you've undergone. If you remove yourself from public circles, they'll just notice that you're back or comment on how long you've been away. Your mental integrity. Your self-esteem. Your belief in your own ability... those are your personal intellectual property and responsibility. Sometimes, no one else can help you get to the top of a mountain you've erected but yourself. On occasion, you make it to the top of that mountain, pitch your flag there and do a little (controlled so you don't fall) victory dance at the end - ready for the next challenge. And of course there are the insurmountable ones... the ones that you try and try to get to the top but you tumble, suffering injury on the way down, all the while reminding yourself that YOU got you into this situation. And the only way you'll get out of it is depending on YOU.

When you do finally get to the end goal, it's quiet. You could try to express all the baby steps that you took to get to where you are and see if it'll amount to a hill of beans to anyone else. But only you know the manuscript. It only affects you as deeply to know how far you've come. How scared you were. How at times it seemed like there was no hope. How alone you felt despite folks wanting to rally around you. How in the 11th hour, you found the strength at the core of your being to give it one last push and THAT was what pushed you over the top. How you mumbled quiet affirmations to yourself along the way, half thinking you were crazy, but KNOWING you needed to tell your spirit, "I can do this. I'm better than this. I can make it. I'll be different when it's done, but I need this." It feels like you're the only one who will TRULY understand what you came through... because at the end of it all you were the only one left standing... when wouldn't no one else were.

“I go east but he is not there. I go west, but I cannot find him. I do not see him in the north, for he is hidden. I turn to the south, and I cannot find him. But he knows where I am going. And after he had tested me out I shall come forth like pure gold refined through the fire.”- (Job 23: 8-10)

*