New beginnings

Just another Sunday morning and I'm up early - earlier than I need to be as usual. Not that I'm an insomniac or anything but my body has just learned to survive on so little sleep without crashing. At least not yet.

It's nice to be up early because that means I have time to be with just my thoughts. Normally that's a scary thing for most people :) but I like my thoughts and I seldom have time to be with just them.

I'm thinking: Wow! Has it really been 3 years?? 3 years since my dad took his last breath?? 3 years since my family was walking around in that haze that accompanies the loss of someone so dear?? Sometimes it feels a lot more than 3 and more often than not it feels less than 3. Like my dad was just here; advising, coaching, coaxing, setting us straight, loving, laughing...living. And a breath gets caught in my chest as I marvel at the brevity of life and the suddenness of change.

I'm thinking: Yay. Medical school. And then Shoot. Medical school. The very one that seemed so far away at some point is now staring me straight in the eye. I wonder if I my drive is sufficient to get me through. I grimly anticipate the long days and nights of intense studying and sprawling concept maps. I get sweaty palms when I look at a USMLE step 1 question and have no idea what the hell it's talking about. I wonder if I'll make all the right connections with faculty and have access to all the research labs I want. I wonder if I'll make new friends ( lol, yes. It's like middle school all over again). I wonder if we'll all bond like everyone who's gone ahead of me has sworn.

I'm thinking: Dang that tiny Honda made it safe and sound over 700 plus miles?? Plus all my ground cargo that I chose to haul?? And even though my driving leg felt numb as ice it still worked when I tried walking on it?? I'll drive this car forever. I'll drive it to the ground. Then when my first child turns 18 guess what the big present will be :)

I'm thinking: Will my family be alright? Will I be alright being physically removed from them like so? How would things be different if my dad was here? Is there an African store nearby? No no I mean is there an African store nearby that sells calabar chalk??? Important! :) (Don't nobody come preaching to the choir 'bout how it's unhealthy and all that now).

But I'm sitting here watching the sun rays bathe my unfurnished new abode and something deep within me just knows I'll be aight :) Maybe I'll rename this blog Glorifications and Frustrations of an M1 so I can make y'all part of my pleasure and pain. We shall see.

Something like poetry

The idea of this poem came to me over the course of several years. As a maturing young woman who’d been thrust into the American society, it came slowly to me (mostly via the internet) that the black woman was not viewed as beautiful by a good number of people. Having grown up on an almost entirely black continent, I was initially quite surprised. Over time and after reading way too many comments than I should have under certain Yahoo! articles, I came away more baffled than surprised. I had always seen beauty in myself and the women around me, so how come it there were so many people out there who did not? And then it hit me that there are many black girls growing up in parts of the world where this message is all they’ve heard for as long as their young minds can remember. So I decided to put in words the beauty I see in myself and in other black women, to serve as a reminder for women/girls whose societies have labeled them undesirable and ugly. My message? Dear brown-skinned girl, you are so damn beautiful even if they don’t see it. (I don't like being too preachy so this one was a little bit of a reach for me but oh well)

So you braved the odds and came to the world a month early

And loved to roam the outdoors when you mastered using those little feet

But long before you knew it school days were here

Where you were told by fellow mates you weren’t all that

They said your hair was too nappy and puffy

That it did not ebb and flow and cascade like theirs

But how could they not see the beauty in its versatility

And the tiny ringlets that were a delight to play with?

They said your facial features were not what they liked

Your nose too wide and the lips too thick

But how could they not see how perfectly the nose framed your face

And the luscious kisses that your generous lips provided?

They said your body was too full, too non-svelte

Your bosom too voluptuous and your hips too wide

But how could they not see that these same things

Were the very essence of your womanhood in which you took pride?

They said your skin was too dark

Not white and pale like they would rather have

But how could they not see the beauty in your chocolate

And caramel skin so fervently maintained by daily moisturizer?

They took not the time to know you

Just went with the assumption that you were air-headed

But they didn’t even know about your extensive readership

Nor did they care to hear about your academic achievements and goals

They said you were cold and non-deserving

Since the talk was that you had room only to be angry and wild

Yet they failed to see how big your heart was

And the open arms you held out to everyone who was in need

And so whilst the world has drawn up its own picture

Of what you should and should not be

Hang tight to the core precepts of your being

Lest you become what they wish you were.

                                                Mildrede Bonglack

                                                Minnesota, January 2014