26 Days Ago

I barely remember 9/11.

Unlike many people, I can’t tell you where I was, what I was wearing, or who I was with when I found out that terrorists had crashed planes into the Twin Towers. Sure, I was only in elementary school, but that day is so ingrained in the fiber of our nation that it feels like a faux pas to point out how much it really didn’t affect my formative years.

However, I do remember 9/3. That’s the day, in 2016, my entire family packs up a rented van and drives my baby sister–hardly a baby anymore–to New York City.

“You’re in college now,” I tell her in a mockingly severe voice before we leave the house.

“You’re going to be tempted to be stupid. Don’t be stupid.” She rolls her eyes as teenagers do, but I know she understands exactly what I am saying. Be careful. Be safe.

She is always careful, but that doesn’t guarantee her safety.

It’s not her actions I worry about when I’ve texted her six times in a row because she hasn’t yet replied to the first. It’s the actions of an unknown individual setting off bombs in dumpsters or plotting to take out a subway system or whatever other sinister act living in a large–or any–American city attracts these days.

I worry for my parents, who may not be as in tune with the minute happenings of our world being a social media obsessed millennial allows me to be. If something were to happen, when would they know?

I worry for my brother, who has his own battle being a successful Black male in America. Is any member of our Black family safe from day to day? Another thought for another time.

I worry for the nation; we’re living in a place that is seemingly always on the cusp of some sort of disaster. Economically, culturally, internationally, socially, physically, etc. What will tomorrow bring? That is, if it comes at all.

But most of all, I worry for the youngest of the family. The one of us expected to be the most successful. The smartest, the funniest (well, maybe not more than me), and the most charming of our happy little crew. She’s five or six hours away. Who is keeping her safe without us being arm’s length away. I worry for her and about her because while I don’t much remember 9/11, I remember every attack since. In all of the many, many places since. We’re all just being realistic when we acknowledge what has happened in New York, Florida, D.C., and several other cities, and that it may happen again.

Still, I must accept that living in a state of paranoia is helpful to no one, especially myself, so I text her regularly hoping to hear of a celebrity siting rather than something new to worry about.

She has a beautiful view of Manhattan from her dorm window and tucked away in the back, glistening when the sun hits it just right, is the Freedom Tower. I make sure to remember what is stands for.

New Year, New…

Notes To Self

Definitely not me, I can tell you that much. Not because 2015 won’t be a year of change, but because that phrase is so stupid. Tell me it isn’t. You shouldn’t have to wait for a brand new revolution around the Sun in order to decide to make a difference in your life. This is why I don’t make resolutions any more. It’s hard to lie to yourself about goals and aspirations that you truly want to accomplish.Just because I’ve said I’m going to do something doesn’t mean I believe I’ll do it. It’s why, nowadays, I try to make plans but not promises. I want to go to the gym more and I probably will, but sometimes I won’t. I’ll live like a free bird.

~~A new semester has begun for me and it will be a busy one between work, classes, and the extra leadership roles I’ve taken in organizations. Not to mention the Great Internship Hunt.~~ College. I don’t even want to discuss it so I won’t.

I’m always happy for a new year because every January seems like a renewal. It feels like a restart button has been pushed when that giant ball drops…usually. This year, however, the dirty muck of society’s problems have been tracked across the clean floor. It’s not as if we, as an entire human people, were clean. Wars have never ended because the time changed. Murders have occurred even as the clock strikes 12. The homeless were not enjoying warm fires and cool drinks with friends. The awareness I’ve developed over the past few years has forced me to see how much needs to be changed. A new year is nice on a personal level, but you’re wrong if you live solely to serve yourself. The world is much larger than “me” and I hope, 365 days from now, that there is some refreshment to feel.

I’m Your Girl, You’re My Man…

Wonder Woman

That phrase has gotta go.

Here I am, watching a mtvU video from from their Against Our Will campaign and “Rhea” tells us how about her boyfriend who would turn out to be her pimp.

“He made it seem like I was his girl, he was my man…” she says.

That made me pause and think.

I’ve heard that so often, but it never resonated with me before. Or maybe I just wasn’t as aware as I am today.

I see that phrase as a manifestation of our male dominated society. That phrase is the epitome of gender inequality. That phrase is a lot of things, but we, as an intellectual society, need to stop making it seem like something positive.

If I am with someone, as a grown (yikes) woman, I never want to feel like I am in some way inferior to my partner. My niece is a “girl.” She’s four and always has the cutest braids. When she’s my age, I don’t want her considering a potential partner as a man if he doesn’t give her that same respect regarding maturity.

It’s always used in some lovey-dovey, romantic scenario. But it isn’t very sweet to further some kind of inequality in your relationship.

Men dominate so much of society already. I think it’s this unconscious unbalancing that happens between genders that perpetuates this. I’ve heard this line in songs, movies, TV, real life, etc, but I’ve never thought much about the impact it could be having. Perhaps the effect is small, but we should think about what we’re putting out there when we say these kinds of things. If someone’s my man, I’d like to be his woman in return.