22 Very Important Happenings

 I'd like to say this is a list of the most wonderful, amazing, lovely things that I've experienced thus far. It's not. This is a list of regular shit that's had an indelible impact on a young thug like myself.

1. My mommy told me I could do anything if I put my mind to it. I struggled to tie my shoes. She said, “You can do anything if you put your mind to it.” I repeated it. She practiced with me until I got it right, repeating it as she deemed necessary. I learned to tie the hell outta some shoe laces. This was my first lesson in determination.
2. Aunt Jackie taught me when to hold 'em and when to fold 'em. While my parents left me in Aunt Jackie's care, she treated (and still treats) me like her own. She let me sleep in the bed with her. She did her best to braid my hair. She whooped my little hard-headed ass. Each time she corrected my behavior, she quoted Kenny Rogers. I was 20 before I finally understood that she also gave me a most treasured piece of advice.
3. Daddy bought me Oooooooh... On the TLC Tip. Nobody loves music the way my daddy does, and the way he chose to share it with me will always be one of the most special things about our relationship. I doubt he knew he was placing in my hands the first womanist manifesto I would ingest, critically dissect, and commit to memory. “Bad By Myself” has been my song since I heard T-Boz slap that man down the steps for lying to her face. “Baby-Baby-Baby” taught me that I deserve to demand love and affection and intellectual stimulation. TLC taught me and you will fucking deal.
4. Gramma Hazel told me to be sweet. My great grandma was mild-mannered, soft spoken, and she liked her likka. Clearly, I was named in her honor for a reason. I don't remember a time she didn't remind me to govern myself in an humble, respectful manner. Six years after her passing, Aunt Jackie gave me a special card for Christmas. I opened it to find Gramma Hazel's handwriting and signature. It simply read, “Be sweet.” At the time, for what I was going through with my college friends and in my love life, I needed that message. Gramma always told us we'd attract more bees with honey than with vinegar, and I'm thankful daily for that reminder.
5. My cousins always listened to my ideas. When we played school, I was they teacher. When we played “going to the beach¹,” I was the mom. When we played “head-on collision,” I was riding into glory as they pushed me in my Power Ranger jeep that no longer worked because we left it out in the rain. Basically, my cousins are not only better than yours, but also the reason I'm a boss.
6. I was bullied in kindergarten. I was five. I had a Lisa Frank lunchbox. I attended a small private school. At least five white girls in seventh and eighth grade encircled me a recess everyday for weeks to antagonize me about my hair. I'll never forget the way they asked me how my head grew worms. I'll never forget how terrified I was every time they gathered around me to tease the only hairstyle I'd ever known. Somehow, our teachers and administrators never recognized what was going on. But I'll also never forget the day I gathered the courage to tell them they could kiss my ass. Literally. My mom's little sister told me to say it to them. I'll never forget how enraged my parents were when I finally told them. I'll never forget the satisfaction I felt when they weren't allowed to go to recess as punishment for being the racist assholes they might still be. I'll also never forget the day I thanked one of them to her face for teaching me how to stand up for myself despite being smaller, younger, and outnumbered.
7. Ms. Britt and Mrs. Russell realized I was exceptional and treated me accordingly. In kindergarten, Ms. Britt gave me different worksheets than she gave my classmates. My books had longer sentences and bigger words. In 4^th grade, Mrs. Russell gave me extra assignments and thicker books with few pictures. She let me have reading time alone while my classmates worked on regular 4^th grade foolishness. They hated on me for having all the pillows in the book nook to myself, but they didn't stop my shine. These two educators gave me my first lesson in being the exception and liking it.
8. I ran the Cussing Club. Also in 4^th grade, I was initiated into the Cussing Club by venturing to the picnic table on the far side of the soccer field and saying all the cuss words I knew. I quickly rose through the ranks of leadership, as I was arguably the best cusser the 4^th grade has ever seen (Thanks, Grandma.) At the height of my administration, I had a small conglomerate of Caucasian children buying me snacks and covering my lunchroom duty. Evidently, they felt I was forcing them to perform these menial tasks, while I thought they just enjoyed doing it. Their parents told the headmaster who told my parents who whooped my ass and made me write an essay on why I shouldn't cuss. That shit didn't make too much of a difference in the long term. But at least I'd learned my first lesson in differentiating between power and leadership.
9. I made real friends in middle school. Despite terrorizing my classmates, my headmaster and teachers told my parents I needed to skip the 5^th grade. I guess I had time to dominate because my school work wasn't challenging enough. I met my two first real best friends after changing classes. Granted, we were the only colored kids on the class so we had to stick together off principle. We've now moved past solidarity to lifelong friendships that have carried us through microagressions, breakups, frenemies, and general adolescent fuckery. These friendships taught me I was actually likable as fuck and made it easier to find real friends in high school and college.
10. The boys I liked didn't liked me back. Since the dawn of time, the guys I thought were immensely popular and utterly gorgeous were not checkin' for the kid. I wrote one boy a note in third grade expressing my undying love for him. He laughed in my face. Another never so much as looked my way. Yet another somehow went from my seventh grade crush to some sixth grader's boyfriend right under my nose. I was certain I'd be alone forever. This was my first lesson in rejection as protection.
11. I survived the private-to-public school transition like the fucking boss I am. I went from school with a Pre-K thru 9 population of 112 students, to a 9-12 population of 2200. And I won. I made a solid group of like-minded friends. I made decent grades. I joined clubs, won awards, participated in special committees, and even held a class office. And I only fell in the cafeteria once.
12. I told my color guard instructor she got on my nerves. In 11^th grade, I joined the marching band flag team. Our section instructor was a no-nonsense, no holds barred type that would promise you a punch to the chest if she felt like you deserved it. One day during senior year, she called me out for something I knew I didn't do. I didn't have time to entertain her shit that day, so I threw my flag down and headed toward my belongings because I was going the fuck home. She stopped me, asked what my problem was and I replied curtly, “You.” The whole band was staring at us with the wide-eyed emoji face on. She pulled me to the side and talked to me in a tone that showed respect and compassion, even though she knew I knew she'd punch me in the chest if I got any smarter than I had already. We apologized & I joined my team on the field. This was my first lesson in standing up to the establishment—kind of.
13. The boys that did like me never dated me. I fostered deep, meaningful relationships with boys that enjoyed having me meet their mothers, visiting me at home, and calling me their “homie” or “best friend.” These boys never took me on dates, but they sent me heartfelt text and AIM messages, kissed me in my driveway and were unnecessarily nice to my little brother. These boys were my first lesson in small, petulant love that does nothing more than drain you of your divine energy that it never deserved.
14. The boys I dated and thought I loved were sociopaths &/or generally terrible people. The first man I wanted to marry was a closeted homosexual that preyed on much younger girls since he was a teenager. At 16, dating someone 8 years older than me seemed like a privilege, and I was sure he was my soul mate. The things I've learned about him since our relationship ended terrify me. I could continue with stories of heart break and manipulation, but I'm sure you get my point. Teen-aged ravey was a terrible judge of character and committed to nothing more than she was to falling in love with potential.
15. I went to college without any friends. I left home for Hampton University's PreCollege programs 7 days after I graduated from high school. I was forced to make friends with absolute strangers. Some turned out to be terrible people. Some are family.
16. My college friends called me on my passive aggressive bullshit. My best friends and I believe in iron sharpening iron. We have learned not to criticize, but to encourage and correct one another. We believe in doing what's necessary to strengthen ourselves as professionals and as women. I'd still be a passive aggressive fuck nugget if it weren't for them.
17. I failed class(es). It started spring semester of freshman year. It happened at least once per school year. My final grades were always the whole entire alphabet. These classes were my lessons in not only failing to live up to my own potential, but also that everything will honestly be al-the-fuck-right.
18. I survived sophomore year. I was convinced my friends didn't give a fuck about me. I was in between some of the most terrible romantic situations I've experienced in my adult life. I miserably failed organic chemistry and frantically searched for a new major. Life was a complete shit show. But I learned how to deal with my problems on my own. And how to drink wine.
19. I made friends with an enchanted boy. Sophomore year was also the year a somewhat random classmate asked me to listen to his music. We exchanged numbers via facebook and we haven't stopped talking since. He's shown me life and friendship and love sprinkled in fairy dust and awesomeness. He was my first lesson in not judging a book by its cover.
20. I graduated and got into graduate school and got a job in my field. I did everything I was supposed to do when I was supposed to do it and I've hated every fucking second of it. This was my first lesson in forging my own path.
21. I lived alone, and I lived with a boy. Living alone taught me how precious and beautiful and important quiet, reflective time with yourself is. Living with a boy taught me how serious it is to share my space. I miss both of these arrangements every single day of my Black ass life.
22. I own my raggedy shit. There is freedom to be found in standing in your truth despite how ugly it may be. Progress is a gorgeous process when you really work on it by honestly assessing yourself. “Own your raggedy shit and do better,” tweeted dream hampton. I picked a piece of myself up off the shelf and started doing just that.