How do I reclaim my power and identity? What is the issue behind black women wanting other black women to keep their hair contained? How important is it for black women to accept other black women? What does it look like for us to project our own insecurities onto other people? How should I deal with microaggressions at school and church? How does being created in God’s image play a role in the acceptance of ourselves?
If you need a place that is relatable, where you can pull off your masks, be real, dig deep, embrace your hair and skin color, release your emotions, and reveal your true identity and worth as a black woman, then listen to Part 2 of this candid interview between Ashley Cutler and me in a new series of The Valley of Grace Podcast entitled, “The Black Woman Experience: Talking Through Our Stories” to find out the answers to these questions and more. Be blessed! #ashleycutler #authors #blackwomen #blackmarriage #blackrelationships #reclaimyourpowerandidentity #youareenough #blacksuperwoman #blackskin #blackhair #blackauthors #theblackwomanstruggle #racism #traumas #blacktraumas #acceptance #puttinghairinacontainer
Is the black superwoman true? What happened to the black family and marriage? How does integration of emotions affect you as a writer? Why do black women settle for a man? How does the world perceive the black woman? How does the media reenforce this perception?
What defines a normal black woman? If you are ready to pull off the masks, be real, dig deep, embrace your hair and skin color, release your emotions, and reveal your true identity and worth as a black woman, then watch this candid interview between Kyona Robinson and me in a new series of The Valley of Grace Podcast entitled, “The Black Woman Experience: Talking Through Our Stories” to find out the answers to these questions and more. Be blessed!
One of my goals this year is to dive into black poetry and literature at a whole ‘nother level. Doing so has helped me in healing, as well as being able to aide me in one of my current book projects: writing a 300 page poetry book.
As with any particular group of people, you can’t assume that what works for one, works for all. As a whole, there is a stigma behind black people doing therapy. This poem deals with that stigma, and hopefully will get some of us to open up at a deeper level. Due to blacks having to suppress their emotions way back from slavery times, it is both difficult, and deemed as unsafe for them to show their emotions in front of others.
The reality of the situation is that when blacks show emotions, particularly that of anger, we are labeled as the angry black man or woman, having a higher chance of the police being called. What is natural for others is a luxury when it comes to black people, and demonstrating emotions goes along with that.
I hope that this poem gives you some food for thought. I would love to start a discussion down below on your experience growing with emotions, and how it was handled. Be blessed!
Today’s episode, Black History Part 2, takes you back and forth through a history of racism, spirituality, and how they all stretch back to the cross. In case you missed Part 1, you can catch that one here.
At Valley of Grace, we believe in thriving. In order to thrive, we have to begin grounding ourselves in our identity. The first step in making this happen, is dealing with the effects of our childhood wounds. Click here to get started in Online Therapy today.****This is an amazon affiliate link where a commission is paid to offsite the cost of providing this information to you.
Podcast Transcription
Speaker 0 00:00:05 We dissect problems and solutions that exist among broken people, living in a broken world. We believe that talking through our stories is the path that leads to walking through our healing. On episode 94, we had black history part one. And I shared with you guys a reading from a republished book that I did, I had written it five years ago, as I explained in episode 94. But just to kind of give a quick recap, I self-published my memoir, The Journey in 2016.
And so, in a couple more weeks, it’s going to be the five-year anniversary. I revamped the whole entire book and did some of the reading on episode 94. So, if you miss that one, you might want to stop this episode and go back and listen to it.
Speaker 0 00:01:16 I am going to do several readings of poetry today. Some of the readings will come from either one of three books that I’ve written. The first one is called My Blackness. The next book is called Surrendered. The third book is called Simply Grace. And then for the other poems, I have not given a title to that particular book yet.
And I am hoping and praying that you find something in the poetry that is like a balm to your soul. Something that resonates with you, might be a come to Jesus moment. It might just be something that you’d need to have to get you through the rest of this week. So, without further ado, here are the poetry readings.
Speaker 0 00:03:33 The first poem that I am going to refer to you is entitled beauty supply store. I love going to the beauty supply store, looking at all the possibilities for my hair, looking at the limited amount of money in my pocket and trying to figure out how to stretch it like Madea does when she sends us to the meat market. I love looking at the scarfs and the grease and the hair oil and the straightening combs and curling irons.
And let’s not forget the blow dryers and the plastic caps for hot oil treatments and keeping the condition in longer so we can get the kinkiness out. I love looking at the jewelry, trying to find the right pair of earrings, ones that express me, my personality, my blackness, my uniqueness.
Speaker 0 00:04:32 The next poem that I am going to read to you is entitled hair products. Where’s the blue magic? right here. I got coconut blue, green. Which one you need? I’m not sure yet, but maybe I’ll try Ultra Sheen, right here. I got green or blue. Which one do you need? Not sure yet. Okay. Where’s the let’s jam? Right here. Don’t want too much flakiness on my head. Just what products will I choose for my hair? Not sure yet. Just not there. Too many to choose from. This is what happens when you enter the beauty supply store for the black person’s hair.
Speaker 0 00:05:32 The next poem that I would like to read to you is entitled prayers. Saying those prayers at night, as my mom tucks me in so tight, rubbing my back, singing those songs, saying those prayers, you know, the ones that start,” Now I lay me”, those prayers. Yes.
And those prayers, the ones that your mom taught you as a baby in her womb, when it became unknown, your life’s paths would have to resurrect itself from the soul, denied betrayal. Our ancestors and forefathers fought hard to bring them. Saying those prayers at night, as my mom tucks me in so tight. The last one that I’m going to read is actually a quick short story and is called Hairy sandwiches.
Speaker 0 00:06:48 When you are growing up black, you know, there are certain things that call for good times, relatives visiting in the North from down-South and vice versa. Having a community that centers on food, dancing and pressing hair as a kid. When my relatives from down-South visited us in Chicago, you could be sure there was going to be a good time had by all.
My mom and my aunts would tell jokes and talk about old times like it was yesterday. I never grew tired of hearing the same old stories. My cousin Fifi came to Chicago and stayed with my grandmother for three days. At the end of her visit, we decided that we would ride back to Memphis with her. Not only would we get a chance to visit with her while she was here, but she was going to press my hair at Madea’s Beauty Shop beforehand, before heading back to Memphis.
Speaker 0 00:07:45 And I had to admit Fifi pressed hair just as good as Madea. Before leaving Chicago, I got my hair done. It was nice and slick on my head and I was ready. Why I had her to go through all this trouble, knowing that my hair was going to draw back as soon as I hit the Memphis sun, I don’t know. Fefe decided she would make what the black folks called the best thing ever, fried bologna and cheese sandwiches. The secret in making these sandwiches was making sure that they were only slightly burnt. That way you knew they would be perfect.
She prepared the sandwiches, chips, cookies, and drinks, and we all piled inside of the car. After a few hours of traveling, the kids were dying of hunger. One of the adults mentioned something about grabbing a sandwich out of the bag. I grabbed one sandwich out of the foil and took a bite. The sandwich tasted so good, but something did not feel right on my tongue. The texture of whatever I was tasting was not that of bologna, bread, or condiments. I tried to ignore it, but my gut told me that something was wrong. I opened my mouth and then pulled it out a small ball of hair with a string coming out of it.
Speaker 0 00:09:24 Do I tell them? And also, do I keep it to myself? That was the question of the day. I decided I would not say anything at all. It was just one sandwich. I opened the bag again, partially opening the foil for each of the other sandwiches. They all had small balls of hair in them as well. Cookies, chips, and drinks sounded more appetizing. It was a long hungry ride to Memphis. To this day, I don’t remember if I ever told anyone in the car about the sandwiches, or if they found out on their own. The moral of this story is to never prepare food in the same location of Madea’s beauty shop. It could be a hairy experience for all.
Speaker 0 00:10:22 He speaks is the title of this poem: He speaks but where will it be? In a message in a song, or the birds in the tree? Will it be in the midst of the wind blowing at night? Will it be in the calmness of the cricket singing in flight? In the morning when the rabbit is talking to squirrels or the munks tunneling through grass and the Robins dancing a twirl? Will it be in the waves that are splashing on the beach or the smiles of the saints as they’re waving hi, to me?
Will it be in the sun that is setting in the sky or the swans overhead that are reaching by and by? When he speaks, Will I hear him, same voice as before, or will it be with great trumpet, all of that, And even more? The next poem is entitled recovery. It’s recovery it’s recovery. It requires lots of discovery. What I think. what I feel, what my body tells me is real. Though it’s hard it’s recovery. God is there. In this discovery.
Speaker 0 00:12:01 And the last form from this book that I’m going to read is entitled reunion. hey left me for dead, But sold me instead. Endured being in chains, As favor surely reigned. Became second in command, Till the wife wanted my hand. In charge of the prison.
NO Release.
Just indecision. Till the king had his dream. God revealed all the means. Gave God all the credit. My life story had an edit.
Then my brothers showed up in hunger. Couldn’t take it any longer.
Told all the servants To leave the room.
As I cried out
Deeply Woven in mounds of gloom. Hugged them deep and cried out long. Filled our souls and showed up strong. The reunion wasn’t expected. But God’s grace had it protected.
Speaker 0 00:13:06 Okay? The next series of poems I’m going to read is from a book that is entitled Simply Grace. I am the vine and so, is it time? The deep wet dirt of the earth pulls me in as my little coral bells are just dancing in the wind. Then the dear clematis vine He shouts loud with his trumpet from the East to the West. You don’t miss his triumphant. I am the vine. You are the branches just trust in me. I’ll take you through the trenches, parts of my vine is tied to the trellis. And then part of me sits on the earth where this mess is. Then the dear clematis vine, He shouts loud with his trumpet from the East to the West. You don’t miss his triumphant. I am the vine. You are the branches just trust in me.
Speaker 0 00:14:11 I’ll take you through the trenches. Then the husbandman gives orders to the dear clematis vine. It’s just not the hour yet. It’s just not the time. I wrap around, the heucheras, the heucheras the color of wine. And I pray in the garden till beads of sweat So intertwined. Then the husbandman calls out it is time for the trellis. I will send out relief through a comforter where this mess is. Then the dear clematis vine, he shouts loud with his trumpet, from the East to the West, you don’t miss his triumphant. I am the vine. You are the branches. Just trust in me. I’ll take you through the trenches.
Speaker 0 00:15:02 My next poem deals with identity. And sometimes even when we think we’ve got it down pat, the devil will come and run amuck on us and have us question everything all over again. And that’s when we have to speak words of life over our souls to get ourselves grounded. So the name of this poem is entitled. Who am I?
Who am I? I am a child of the King. Did you see his right hand? My name is printed with a ring. Who am I? Who am I? I am a princess and a daughter, drafted in Royal priesthood in his image and his order. Who am I? Who am I? I am promised that I’m his, he’s my maker and my husband. He’s my counselor and my friend.
Speaker 0 00:16:02 The next poem that I’m going to read is called cries of the heart. I cried. I cried from all of this trauma. Oh my dear Lord. Did I need any more drama? Oh my dear child, please come close. Just draw near. Let me whisper a little something in those precious little ears. I have plans for you. Plans to prosper, not to harm, meditate on my word, and you’ll never be alarmed, for this Trauma is a Thorn, a thorn in your flesh, but it’s also a gift that will put you to the test. The things that I show you are great things from above, not vanity or conceit, they are given to you with love. And the last poem I’m going to read from this book is entitled empathy. Yeah.
Speaker 0 00:17:05 It’s not the same as sympathy. I understand just what you’re feeling. Not sorry for. It’s not the willing. I sit with you. You sit with me. It’s empathy, now, Can’t you see? Oh yes. I feel just what you feel. It is not a matter of the will. I will not rush your pain at all. In life, We all must feel the fall. I laughed with you. You laugh with me. We cry and cry till tears run free. Empathy, empathy. It’s not the same as sympathy.
Okay? So the last group of poems that I’m going to read, are not in any book yet.
You’re black
You’re black
Your dignity
And integrity,
Self-respect
Not kept in tact.
Because
you see
Your skin
Erases
all those things
And all we see is lack.
I’m not complaining.
‘Motionally draining,
And with my service
I give back.
So, wash, and rinse,
And dry again.
And just absorb
Those facts.
My Hair is Nappy
My hair is nappy and kinky
Don’t you see the bees
In the back
I don’t look pretty
Look crazy and silly
Matter fact, these
‘tails look whack
Your hair is beauty
It’s my creation
Your hair, the glory
Part of me.
You queen from Africa
Queen from Sonship
Queen from My Identity.
Speaker 0 00:20:34 The next poem is entitled Get up here
Wash those dishes
We better hurry
‘fore Madea
Come down
And blast us
With those switches
Add the water
Then the soap
Then pour plenty
Of that bleach
Till the smell reaches
Our lungs,
Becomes more like a leech.
So that was get up here. There’s a lot of stigma in the black community around emotions. A lot of it has come from post-traumatic stress syndrome and post traumatic slave syndrome.
Suppression
Cry
Just cry
Just let it all out
You see crying is a luxury
From when slavery came about
Hold it in
Just suppress
Don’t you say a mumblin’
Word.
To your wife
Or your kids
As we gather them like herds.
Black folk don’t do therapy.
Black folk don’t do therapy.
We pray and we cry.
Yep, we cry in private.
But in public our tears run dry.
Black folk don’t do therapy.
We’re strong as a people.
We just slay in the Spirit.
Till our Prayers hit the steeple.
Black folk don’t do therapy.
We just hope and we pray.
That our unhealed
Brokenness
Will up and leave us some day.
Black folk don’t do therapy.
‘Cause we think it’s a sin
If we bring down from
bondage
Generations had to win.
Black folk must do therapy.
‘Cause then we can negate
Ev’ry game that’s been
Played
‘Gainst the enemy
Called hate.
Black folk must do therapy.
Till we break all devices
That’s been sown
Into seeds.
Then planted
With preciseness.
Black folk must do therapy.
So our kids
Will one day see
That our growth,
Faith, and healing
Was a bicycle
Made For me.
Speaker 0 00:24:01 I want to thank you for being faithful listeners each and every week. And I also want to ask you to follow us on iTunes, Spotify, Stitcher, Apple Podcasts, Google Podcasts, or Youtube, if we are making a difference in your life. And then I want to give a shout out to Timothy Horton for bringing us our intro and outro music each week. Until Next Time.
This week’s episodes are focusing on Black History month and Black Literature. In this episode, I am doing a reading from “The Journey”. You are able to get a picture of what it was to live in the South in the 1960’s, along with the dynamics of being black. I hope that you enjoy this reading, and that something that is read will resonate with your soul as you listen to Black History Part 1.
At Valley of Grace, we believe in thriving. In order to thrive, we have to begin grounding ourselves in our identity. The first step in making this happen, is dealing with the effects of our childhood wounds. Click here to get started in Online Therapy today.****This is an amazon affiliate link where a commission is paid to offsite the cost of providing this information to you.
Episode 74: An Interview with Woman of God, Fertility Liaison, Advocate for the Empowerment of Women, Entrepreneur, and Mother of Three Torria Johnson on Brokenness, Blackness, Music, Balancing Freedom with Trust, Relationships, & The Pandemic
This morning I had the privilege of interviewing Fertility Liaison Torria Johnson. It was a tremendous blessing to see how the Holy Spirit moved, and what can happen when we allow God to use us as his vessel. If you missed last week podcast, episode 74, An Interview with Timothy Horton, click here.
7 Some time later the brook dried up because there had been no rain in the land. 8 Then the word of the Lord came to him: 9 “Go at once to Zarephath in the region of Sidon and stay there. I have directed a widow there to supply you with food.” 10 So he went to Zarephath. When he came to the town gate, a widow was there gathering sticks. He called to her and asked, “Would you bring me a little water in a jar so I may have a drink?” 11 As she was going to get it, he called, “And bring me, please, a piece of bread.”
12 “As surely as the Lord your God lives,” she replied, “I don’t have any bread—only a handful of flour in a jar and a little olive oil in a jug. I am gathering a few sticks to take home and make a meal for myself and my son, that we may eat it—and die.”
13 Elijah said to her, “Don’t be afraid. Go home and do as you have said. But first make a small loaf of bread for me from what you have and bring it to me, and then make something for yourself and your son. 14 For this is what the Lord, the God of Israel, says: ‘The jar of flour will not be used up and the jug of oil will not run dry until the day the Lord sends rain on the land.’”
15 She went away and did as Elijah had told her. So there was food every day for Elijah and for the woman and her family. 16 For the jar of flour was not used up and the jug of oil did not run dry, in keeping with the word of the Lord spoken by Elijah.
PTSD/trauma is real. And for those of us who live with it on a daily basis, it can be challenging for some, and debilitating for others. Everyday, we have conversations with people, and those conversations may involve sights, sounds, smells, etc. that trigger some form of trauma that we have experienced in our lifetime. The question that I have for you today is, “What happens when one traumatic event triggers another traumatic event?”
For instance, we are living in a pandemic. This pandemic is trauma-inducing. It brings with it fear, anxiety, uncertainty, unpredictability, isolation, etc. Just going over these elements themselves, it is important to take note that they rank high on the list as contributing factors to PTSD.
In the month of June, we had the death of George Floyd as the deaths of Breanna Taylor and Armaud Arbery were still fresh in our minds. His death led to a series of protests, looting, and upheaval all across the nation, and then all across the world. Some areas even got so bad that the nation guards were brought in, For some people like my mom, this series of events took them straight back to the 1960s when the Civil Rights movement was in full swing. Dr. King had come to Memphis, Tennessee to march peacefully in hopes of helping the sanitation workers get fair pay and treatment.
What he didn’t plan on happening, is that his arrival in Memphis would sadly be the beginning of the end of his life. The national guards would come in to take control. People like my uncle and cousin would be beaten with billy clubs. Looting would take over the city, as well as other places in the United States.
The hardest part about navigating a traumatic event like murder in broad daylight is hoping that you’re not alone. Someone understands and empathizes with your pain. In the sixties, there wasn’t social media. Today, there is. After these deaths, people flocked to social media for expressing their feelings, whether it was outrage, disbelief, shock, or empathy, as others lied in wait to attack them.
The surprise attacks caused these expressers to be retraumatized over and over again. People who you thought felt the same way that you do were showing their true feelings, causing you to feel like a knife was being inserted in your chest. Life became even trickier to navigate. Friendships among races became trickier to navigate. Nothing felt certain. So in a time like this, what do we do in order to navigate this trauma, the trauma of these lives that have been taken.
First of all, we pray, and then pray again, humbling ourselves.
if My people who are called by My name will humble themselves, and pray and seek My face, and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin and heal their land.
Remind ourselves that this is now 2020, and that our minds want us to think that we’re back in the 1960s.
Ground ourselves in the spaces that you we in, with smells, sights, sounds, and pictures reflecting the current time.
Remind ourselves that God is soverign and in control, while we pray and hope that justice will be served, knowing that God is the ultimate judge.
Talk to our pastor, or another trusted leader for support.
Find like-minded friends and family members that you know will offer support.
Sign yourself up for therapy if needed.
Limit your time on social media.
Give yourself grace, compassion, and empathy.
And most importantly, grieve, lament, and grieve again. There is no time constraint on grief, and seeing the loss of life is hard for any and all witnesses.
On tomorrow, I will be celebrating the heavenly birthday of my grandmother, Beatrice, affectionately known to her family as Mudear. There isn’t one day that goes by that I don’t think of her “figures of speech, quotes, words of wisdom, or just a matter of fact response to any kind of drama that is going on. I got my first lesson on community from living in her tiny apartment in the projects. Her place was filled with smells of fried chicken, grease popping and cabinets that displayed it, hair pressing, and the love that she had for her family.
I wrote the following poem ” My Blackness”, this past week, after dropping my car off for an oil change, and then waiting for my son to pick me up. I read the poem to my son, and he was surprised that I was able to write it so fast. His response, “Hmmm, I’m surprised that you didn’t need to have the perfect writing conditions present”. My response: “Yes, I know. Totally a God thing.” Me standing there on the sidewalk typing a poem into the Notes app on my phone? I then explained to him that I had read a blog post by a black blogger on the Black Lives Matter topic, particulary Juneteenth, and was immediately inspired to write poetry that helped to express my feelings about everything. Feelings about why we judge, what we judge, and what we think when we just don’t understand.
Well, here goes. Mudear, this is dedicated to you:
