We Asked for Better, You Gave Us Bitter

I hoped for better in my lifetime than a regression to the "days of yore." But really, that time is not what most romanticize it for, it's a dangerous, dark and deadly door.

Now, here we are, in the future with a penchant for a past that doesn't exist, except in the minds of creative and deceptive revisionists.

The same who want to tell me that a protest isn't right, that that is not how Americans fight. I'm sorry, I'm sure I didn't hear you right.

This America, founded as the home of the free and land of the brave, made up of people running who, we’re told, didn’t want to be religious slaves. The ones who decided the rule and dare I say, oppression, of a king wasn't really their thing.

This America, taken from the hands of those who owned the lands through deceit and forced migrations, and stipulations that the indigenous are still paying for. You won’t even look at the receipt. Reservations set at a table at which no one should have to eat. The sky was the border until you brought disorder, and now they die bound on set lands.

Heritage and pride, ancestry and thriving lives, in your eyes, reduced to mascots.

This America, where we fight for a corporate logo instead of the people it purports to represent. How terribly indecent, how far our descent into insensitivity. And yet you say to just get over it.

This America, built on the backs of the blacks, forced from homes and brought here through abhorrent means. The families and lives destroyed, the pain of their humanity, traded as they were demeaned to be property.

Demons. Sexually immoral. Lazy. In need of a leader. Too feeble. Weak. ⅗ of a man. Childlike. Unable to speak up for themselves. To be coddled because they are ignorant. And still we pay the bill for these thoughts.

Like the native peoples, referred to as savages. Yet those who did these terrible things flipped through passages of a Bible that says "whosoever will" will be free indeed. Using the name of Jesus to enact the most horrible deeds.

This America, where a messaging strategy brought a thing created called Manifest Destiny, that is revered as the will of God. But it was an excuse used to confuse, to lay claim to what wasn’t yours- and as we still love to do, we came in kicking down doors, taking what’s not ours.

And now, you’re sour. Your greatest fear is that another group will come here and do what you did. You close your borders to those just like you and become hoarders of this so-called liberty that was once extended, but now is to be defended through hatred.

This America, where the poor are the problem. Where we laugh at the uneducated as we take their books and close their schools. We point at them on TV and refer to them as fools. We claim to be pro-life but let families starve with no regard for their hardship. We regale stories of grandads working hard, forgetting the subsidies that helped them to charge forward.

Programs of government were OK back in the day when the benefit went only to you. But now we talk about “hand outs” and “free stuff” as if no one has the guts to put in a full day’s work. You say, “If only the poor weren’t so lazy,” yet that’s obviously crazy when they’re balancing a job or two, and still can’t do what’s basic.

“Get an education!” But it’s hard to get one when charters are the new destination for segregation keeping the “separate but equal” lie alive. Here take this loan but don’t bemoan the 200% interest at which you must pay it back. And here they are, the educated and poor, living in lack.

Or what of those who work trades? Whose work was sent away, in the name of corporate greed, but we like to call by it’s acceptable name, profitability. We blame technology for the end of skilled labor but don’t talk about overseas sweatshops filled with penny-a-day wagers.

We blame the poor, on whom we shut the door and give low ceilings and slap them in the face when they come appealing for more. We take their chances for greatness in the name of morality and tell them to bootstrap their reality and that it will all be OK.

This America, where we like abstractions of the truth and distractions from the proof our own guilt. This truly wonderful place built with slave labor, poor families, immigrants and the indigenous so that our own tycoons could get rich. Then even richer and sell us a picture of what could be, if it weren’t for the “other guy” standing next to me; creating a dichotomy of us versus them, where we fight, only for the ones with no skin in, to win.

This America, where coded language is used to assuage guilt and incite hate. Turning brother against brother, each of us against one another, but we’re to believe in the beneficence of an oppressor, that has been the distressor since our story began.

Blame me, tell me I’m the problem. Yet I was born to solve them, to dismantle systems of destruction. Tell me, I’m the one who’s sedated, lulled to sleep by the lies of the “liberal media.” Who is always to blame when they shine light on the games you play. The check to your unbalance, only true when they agree with you. But the same media, guilty of being your tool to spread lies that defy the humanity of the “minority.”

And now, you’ll say I’m un-American and shame me for reading through history and revealing the artistry of your well-crafted lies. You tell me to, “Shut up!” because you despise the tune of my song. You say that I’m complaining, but, in truth, I love my home. Tears at “Oh say can you see?” But for me, I can see. I know my freedom isn’t free. Far too many paid a hefty price for me. No, not ungrateful; tired. Too much blood watering seeds sown in the hopes of a better future.

Better. My grandmother worked hard for better. My mother integrated schools for better. My sister and I live to bring better. Yet today, you’ve shown me that in this America, swallowing a bitter pill of recognition and repentance is not an option.

You're bitter that the “old ways” aren’t good enough. Bitter, that you cannot say and do what generations taught you was cool. Bitter because things got better for more than just you.

You're bitter that you’re not better than all the rest. Bitter that your lies must be laid to rest. Bitter that we won’t rest until better has come through. Better will be better for you, too.

Now come on, we’ve all got work to do.

For a while it may be bittersweet, but the fight will only be complete when you dismantle the inferior systems of supremacy. Or you can choose to stay bitter. But that’s not the route for me. I am moving on to better, because I refuse to accept defeat.

© 2016 Aisha Nichole Willis

Quiet.

Quiet.

Quiet.

Quiet.

You want to hush my zeal.

You laugh at my #Activism.

You tell me it isn't real.

You say “Martin wouldn't do that.”

But you forget you killed him too.

I ask you to have empathy.

Something you refuse to do.

And if I say I love my blackness.

You tell me to take it back.

“Because that love excludes all others.”

Another lie you use to attack.

Quiet.

Quiet.

Quiet.

You tell me it's no big deal.

You say that we’re no angels.

To invalidate how we feel.

You say that we are violent.

But lynching was up to you.

You’ll say that I’m the racist.

My life proves that isn’t true.

You’ll lie about our fathers.

Then ignore statistical facts.

You spread your hatred, calling it news.

And try to tell me how to be black.

You want me to make you comfortable.

Or to look a certain way.

I’m still looking for some empathy.

But it didn’t come today.

Quiet.

Quiet.

Quiet.

You tell me my fate is sealed.

Because I’m tinted with melanin.

You think I’m OK to kill.

I’ve sat for years in silence.

And taken my requests to God.

He never told me to ignore violence.

It’s time for Justice to do her job.

There is much work to be done.

And you can come and lend a hand.

You can ask many questions.

But stop making silly demands.

If I want to cry, I’m going to.

And if I feel a protest is right.

That is where you will find me.

Until others have seen the light.

Go ahead and listen to the lies.

Under the wings of those who yell.

Who tell you that we’re looting.

Who tell you that we’ll fail.

But in hundreds of years of oppression.

You have never truly won.

So tell me again how this is senseless.

I refuse to be numb.

Quiet.

Quiet.

Quiet.

It’s time for our nation to heal.

Your discomfort will not stop me.

My voice you’ll never steal.

If my sound annoys you.

Then go ahead and mute.

But many other freedom fighters.

Will follow our noble pursuit.

We are no longer quiet.

We have more stories to tell.

You will hear us in solidarity.

Listen for our quiet yell.

-©Aisha Nichole Willis 2015-

almost

Almost is a terrible thing I've allowed to happen too often in my life.

I have more times than I can count, according to others around me, been so close to a desired outcome- only to come up short.

I am a reluctant leader, because more times than not, once placed in a position of leadership, I would do something human and be asked why I did what I did. My motives questioned, and my leadership skills minimized.

I have almost measured up to my own brilliance my entire life, but never apparently really reached it.

All I've ever heard about is how much potential I have. I unfortunately let this color my view of me. Apparently I've never done anything well enough- after all if you're not rising to your potential, that's what is being said right? Maybe that's not true and a bit too harsh, but in my gray matter- that's the message I've repeated. The folds in my brain go to pathways and triggers of pain when someone mentions my potential.

I have learned the hard way that I don't fear failure, I fear the effects of success. Once you succeed, when you gloriously mess up, you're paraded around as a fool and then told, you never really were that good to begin with. Must have been a fluke.

I have always been a bit responsibility shy. But I also don't like disorder and I love to solve problems, so I put my head down and get to it, only to be told what I am doing is not needed. Until I'm replaced by someone with credentials and a cool brand who comes along and says the same thing.

I'm told repeatedly to quiet down and watch what I say because I have a way with words, and because of that I have a responsibility. And often times I follow,  I chill only to be asked why it's so difficult to get an answer out of me.

Almost.

I'm tired of almost.

Yes, I'm ranting and complaining. But I can only point the finger at me. I'm a grown up and my decisions and actions are my responsibility. Where does that leave me?

I'm done with almost.

If I gloriously fail, then I'll fabulously learn, regroup and do it better the next time.

At some point I have to accept that I am not, nor will I ever be perfect. TODAY IS THAT DAY. I have made many mistakes but I have also grown and changed.

At some point I have to accept that I am not bad at what I do, I am new at what I do. TODAY IS THAT DAY. By accepting this, I hereby give myself permission to learn, to do the hard stuff, to swing and miss AND on many occasions get a hit, round the bases and bring it home. I don't always have to score, but I do have to step up to the plate.

My mistakes do not define me, they molded me. Mistakes are scars that say at least I tried. There have been many times I was kinetic, moving toward my goals. Tearing into life and enjoying it, for the sake of enjoyment. Not trying to prove myself.

There it is. I've been trying to prove I'm more than potential to someone, God only knows who- because right now, I'm surrounded by people who are encouraging me, who love me despite me.

At some point I have to accept that I am worthy of love. You know what? No matter what TODAY IS THAT DAY!

Today I declare personal freedom from my own prison of perfection, my desire to steer clear of foolishness for the sake of a wreath bestowed by whoever that says I've finally reached some mythical plateau of potential.

I'm not going to chase this high called reached potential any more. I'm doing everything I can to be the best me I can be.

ALL IN!

never say never

Never in my life did I expect to say the following statement:

I love working at the paper!

My fearless editor-in-chief and student publications director push the team to consider different ways to tell stories. In addition to writing the group is fortunate enough to learn to be creative through multimedia and digital storytelling. But selfishly I just want to focus on the writing part so I can become a better reporter.

I had an "aha" moment yesterday when I figured out it's thinking about those other things that will make me a better reporter. I took 10 minutes to walk outside the newsroom. I traded the walls and fluorescence for greenery and fresh air. I was able to clear my mind before I asked myself the question I hope I've learned to love:

"What's another, more interesting way I can tell this story?"

Within a few minutes I had an answer. I fought the urge to run back to the newsroom and really let the idea sink in. By the time I was back at the desk I was bursting with excitement to discuss the idea with my news editor. He liked it and helped streamline it for the best presentation.

The story is scheduled to publish tomorrow and I'm already thinking of creative supplementation for my other stories. And I'm excited about.

I never thought, imagined or dreamed that being a reporter would interest me. I've avoided it. I disliked the idea before I gave myself a chance to explore and see if reporting was for me.

I'm not telling you that I plan to do this for the rest of my life but I'm starting to see how so many are bewitched by journalism's charms. During spring break I read up on the current state of journalism, women in media and what's happening in the digital age. Seriously.

Even though I'm new at this I decided to change the way I view the newsroom. Yes it's a student publication and it's understood that it is a training ground, a place to learn. But I want to be sure I'm giving back. I'm challenging myself to go beyond.

I'm sure I said, "I'll never be a reporter," because I was afraid to try. I thought I would be bad at it, or say or do the wrong thing, and I dread deadlines. I allowed fear to become a limitation. I never gave myself a chance to do something I currently enjoy. How silly.

I'm grateful for this opportunity to learn. I'm changed by what I've seen and who I've been around. I'm going to give it my all.

Goodbye never.

#ProLove

Ladies and gentlemen of the church persuasion we simply have to do better. I saw something today that broke my heart. I will not go into detail but our brothers and sisters should not have to beg, plead and prove themselves for basic necessities. 

We have charitable arms of our churches and faith-based organizations doing what they can to help the community but we only allow them to do so much. Many of us are more eager to send money halfway around the world than we are down the street. [I love mission work so don't get caught up]

We make judgements on those around us. We think because of their need they've sinned or are immoral. We tell them if they had more faith or if they gave more in the offering they would be blessed. The judgements and this twisted thinking become a harsh standard to which those in need must measure up. 

What is wrong with us?

I'm not attempting to bring judgement. I'm checking my own heart. We have to open our eyes to the greater issue.

We have forgotten to LOVE.

I don't know what love looks like to you but there are times real love looks like discomfort. Doing things you don't want to, going somewhere you never thought you would or helping someone you'd rather not. But that's not always the case.

Personally I have experienced some great moments when I got out of my comfort zone and acted "for the sake of love".

I can't just write this and not let the change start with me. 

I've been a class A jerk lately because I'm in a rough patch. The issue has taken a lot of mental real estate, specifically in the area of patience. In other words I've been short-tempered. 

I have no excuse. Life has rough patches and I have to take it as it comes and love all the way through it. And I will. For those I've been short with or hurt I apologize. Please forgive me for not living the life of love and honor that I said I would. I've been too focused on my own little world.

Christians we have the uncommon weapons of love, honor, unity and repentance. We should use them.

After all the One we follow said:

John 13:34-35 Amplified

We're supposed to look like Love. It starts with me. Are you in?

extra! extra!

Image: business2community.com

Guess who's an official sob sister, newshawk? Your 1920s slang a little rusty? As of Friday I was offered a position as a news reporter with The Shorthorn, the University of Texas at Arlington's official and award-winning student publication.

Although I've enjoyed writing for many years I have never considered a career as a news reporter. But Aisha you're a journalism major, right? Yes but there was never a plan to become a reporter. After all everyone knows it's a path you pursue for the love of it, not the great pay. And trust me the pay is not the reason I accepted this job. Not at all.

I began the journey one year ago and noticed that now when I hear people say "{insert negative adjective here} media" a defensive reflex comes up in me. Don't get me wrong I don't play into the mass media pandemonium but I don't want to lump the great reporters who are upholding the standards of excellent journalism in with that crowd.

In any event my infinite curiosity, concern for communities and inability to sit still mean I'm a good candidate for this. Who knew that random combination would pay off? I have a beat to work, stories to develop and relationships to build with sources. This is the next step along the way and I'm both nervous and excited. I look forward to digging in, researching and growing.

Maybe I'll even make a difference. Looking up and ahead.

paint!: something different, part 3

Life is an interesting series of colorful moments. I believe we come from heaven with certain tools that help us to create wonderful masterpieces in the various areas of our lives. We are each given a particular medium and it takes time, effort, planning and practice to become masters in our medium. When these investments are made diligently and consistently, the results are one-of-a-kind.

However, despite our best planning, practice and performance there are times when an sudden change comes and the medium we are working in changes; finding oneself without employment for instance. As I mentioned in the Square Peg post, I experienced this particular rain storm in my life recently. So now I find myself in a place of need and suitable, gainful employment must be found; a new medium.

Here's the deal though, I don't want just another "job". I have finally decided it's about time I figure out how to do what I really want to do for the rest of my life. Three quick statements: I enjoy helping others. I am creative. At 17 (shortly after becoming a Christian) I knew I wanted to serve in ministry full-time and teach the Word. There I said it in the out loud voice. But because of my background at the time Bible school was not even really a thought. After all I was not one of the ministry kids and I had no idea what one did to go about becoming a minister. And even though I was 17, I knew where the money and "success" were (not in ministry) and there was still a huge part of me that was more concerned with the generic American view of success.

In deciding what to study in college, I had to think about what I like, what I'm drawn to.  Technical things and logistics were an interest but my first loves were the arts, creative solutions and people. I realized at an early age though that the careers that had any type of good salary attached to them were the ones that were in the more technical fields so I attempted to draw myself into those fields.

I studied architecture. I enjoyed the learning and I must say I really thought it was going to be the perfect fit because it appealed to my creative and technical sides and was going to give me the tools necessary to help people. I wanted to be successful as an architect yet school was seemingly defeating me and all the while in my heart I yearned for something different, something more. I wanted to be able to use my writing skills and I wanted to have a more direct involvement with people. These are the medium with which I can produce the best art in life. But I spent a lot of time attempting to use my supplementary tools as the foundational medium.

So it should not come as any surprise that I ended up in a completely different field, retail sales. I can work a sales floor with the best of them, because I listen to people and I have an eye for what is aesthetically pleasing. Put me somewhere with a good product and training and I will get to work changing average sales and conversion numbers into something any leader can be excited about. But again as much fun as this can be, it's not what I hoped for. I want other avenues of creativity.

So how do we get to a title like paint from talking about my diverse work history? During my time as part of the 8.2% and job search I am taking the time to develop my creative side, serve at my church and find other opportunities for service. I have specific time set aside to work on things like writing, guitar practice and I decided to try painting again for the first time in a LONG time. When I was in high school I tried my hand at it a few times (the good ole Joy of Painting kit!) but never worked on developing it, well I'm going for it now. There is just nothing like staring at a big blank page and letting your mind create a picture that soon will show up through your own hand. Although at first it's a bit intimidating, when you see something coming into view a new idea and formation coming to life, it is incredibly exciting.

I know my best medium in life is creative service and why I would attempt to do anything else is beyond me. Going for it!

practically speaking: something different, part 2

The practical side of something different. First, I have to speak differently. Lately I have seen the fruit of this so much clearer in my life. Whether I choose to accept this or not self-talk navigates me to actions. I tried to fight this and learned, once again, foundational truths cannot be changed just because I will it so. So what am I saying different? Have I become Stuart Smalley? No, not quite.  I choose to remind myself of the following:

I am God's woman, His daughter, His anointed. He alone gave me gifts but even those do not determine who I am. He fully accepts me, is invested in me and sealed me with His love. I breathe His breath every time I am privileged to wake up and nothing stops that. He made a special plan just for my life and no one stops that. I walk in restored authority. I am smart and gentle, powerful and strong, loving and forgiving, gracious and beautiful, precious and honored because I am in His image. I am blessed, I am provided for, I am good!

Now this may not seem like much but when I consider what I may have said even 6 months ago about myself, I can say this is a world of change! I am not even going to type out those words because I do not want to go back that way again.  The Bible overflows with the truths of how He created me, what He thinks about me and how much He loves me. When I need to know what really matters I go there first. When it comes to how my thinking affects my life four key scriptures in this battle are listed below.

Proverbs 18:20-21
A man's stomach shall be satisfied from the fruit of his mouth; From the produce of his lips he shall be filled. 21 Death and life are in the power of the tongue, And those who love it will eat its fruit.
(What in the world am I saying about my life, family, friends and situations around me if I am going to be filled with what I say?)

Proverbs 23:7a
For as he thinks in his heart, so is he.
(I can say "just kidding" when I say something negative about myself but my behaviors and physical appearance will reflect what I truly think about myself)

Proverbs 27:19
As in water face reflects face, So a man's heart reveals the man.
(Ditto)

Romans 12:1-2
I beseech you, therefore, brethren by the mercies of God, to present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable to God, which is your reasonable service. 2 And do not be conformed to this world but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, that you may prove what is that good and acceptable and perfect will of God.
(Am I being transformed in my thinking to line up with the truths in the Bible or am I being conformed by what happens to me or lies I have said about myself?)

Whether through friends, teachers, bosses, books I am reading or pastors God has been driving home the message of the power of the words I speak over my life. I am accountable for the information I receive so I am choosing to accept this truth and change accordingly. The beautiful thing about this is the fact that I know that I will see great things. If after years of tearing myself down and not believing the truth and receiving the darkness that comes with that, then I fully expect to see radiant light and life in me from here forward. I am expecting the miraculous more than ever before. In being kinder to myself it seems that I have even become more encouraging to others around me, able to reach out to see more in others. That is exciting! I have another practical to share on this but I will continue next time.

Additional resource:
Click here and you will be redirected to the Covenant Church media page. Select the message from Sunday, July 8 "The Keystone" (either audio or video) It will bless you and perhaps challenge your thinking.

something different, part 1

If you expect something different from your life  than what you have become accustomed to seeing then it's time to step out and DO SOMETHING DIFFERENT! But you may think wait if I do something different I may not be good at it, it may make me feel uncomfortable and I may look stupid. All of those are very real possibilities but there is also the possibility that you may find that you can accomplish something great, be good at something new and look good. Or how about if it doesn't turn out the way you hoped, you find that you learn something about yourself or others. I would consider that a building block, a lesson learned.

Recently I set out to do something different in my own life. I ran towards a challenging opportunity because I considered the outcome worth any effort necessary to accomplish the goal. I put myself out there for an opportunity with no guarantee of being accepted. Every step of this process has stretched me, made me feel uncomfortable and at times had me in tears. And I am glad to say I would do it all over again. I did something different and although the response may not have been the one I hoped for, I have taken something much more precious from this. My freedom.

I realized as I was walking through this that I was afraid of being rejected. I, like many, have dealt with rejection in my life but I was letting myself be enslaved by my fear of it. I have lived life worried about other's perception of me too often. I felt as though I was being led around by a ring and chain in my nose to the next spot in my life based on whether or not I thought someone would accept me. When I tell you that is an oppressive and depressing way to live, that does not even begin to describe the unfulfilled, painful existence attached to  the foul principality of rejection. I also felt as though there were a bit and bridle in my mouth guarding my words so that I would, at times, find it hard to choose words, for fear of being misunderstood and rejected. Well, no more.

My eyes have now been opened. I know this is an area of weakness for me, but I am not defeated by it. I refuse to let the thought of rejection keep me from the life I am to live. Jesus did not give up heaven, live His exemplary life, die on a cross and resurrect so that I could wallow in a defeated state. I repent. MY NAME IS VICTORY! I know that I am a part of a greater whole, so there are others who need me to get up and go forward. I am not my own, I was bought at a great price therefore I honor God (1 Corinthians 6:19-20; 7:23) and live in His perfect love which casts out every fear (1 John 4:18-19) whatever form it chooses to come in. Moving forward!