I am a married woman.  I am just entering into my 40’s.  I have a 20 year old step daughter, an 18 year old son, a step son in high school, and a three year old toddler (almost 4).  I think my husband is the sexiest man on earth and I know that my sex appeal isn’t lost on him.  Having said that, I dare any one to tell me that it is without taste to openly flirt with, grind on, kiss or even talk about sex publicly with him.  I absolutely would lose it if anyone ever came at me with that outrageous notion.

Unless you’ve been living under a rock, you’ve heard about the opening performance at the Grammy Awards this year.  Husband and wife team, Jay Z and Beyonce, took the stage in a steamy, all be it hot as hell live performance of the former’s latest hit (and when I say hit, I mean hit – the internet is sick over the song), Drunk In Love.  First let just take a minute and explain to those who may not be fans of the artists exactly what this song is about.  Hold on tight to your chairs.  It is about consensual, hot, drunken sex between a man and a woman who are MARRIED.  Look, now, I was descret with regard to the sexy stuff I did when I was single, but I will be damned if I take it upon myself to play it down now just because some folk get a little uneasy about it.  I believe Beyonce (and her - HOT- husband) would testify to feeling the same way.

"The Grammy's is a family show."  Really?  Ok.  Well when you saw Beyonce twirling sexily in the chair, you should have changed the channel. 

"She’s a mother now.  That song is not in good taste."  Oh yeah?  If you happen to have lost all your desire to be sexy because you have children then that, I’m sorry to say, is your problem.  I don’t have that issue and neither does the hottest female performer in this country.

"He told her to 'eat the cake Anna Mae' and that was taken from a movie where Ike was domestically abusing his wife, Tina."  Yep.  It was.  However, the content of the entire song was about the pure chemistry that happens between a wife who is extremely attracted to her husband after a night of being at the club.  I hate to break it to ya, but just because two people are married doesn't mean the sex drive dies; or, the desire to be explosively into each other sexually disappears.   May not be your forte - granted.  Again, I apologize that you consider this unsettling.  I hope that changes because it can really liven up a sexual experience.  Jay Z did not mean, eat the cake or I’m going to beat your ass.  If that’s what you took from it, so be it.  But you’re wrong.

Being a mother and wife does not equal boring.  Who told you that?  Why does society have to have so much influence on what happens in a person’s personal life?  I truly take issue with the fact that every time a person does something that is all them and not influenced by what someone else thinks or writes, here comes the bible thumping old schoolers to to disect it and explain why it's so wrong.  Here’s a clue – don’t like it, don’t watch it.  Don’t want to hear it, turn it off.  Don’t want your children influenced, don’t expose them to it.  Side note:  It’s no more raunchy than the stuff you let them watch on television and videos.  In fact, one might argue that at least these two are married.  Children are reciting lyrics from Nikki Minaj and Drake without pause.  Do you have any idea what they are saying?  No?  You should. 

This idea that exciting sex can only happen to single people is twisted in itself.  The notion that it's cool but don't talk about it is offensive and crazy to say the least.  If anything use this song as a resource to say to your children (of adequate age) that once you are married, that’s when the good stuff begins.  That might keep some people from thinking they must be near death before they even consider marriage.  It might contribute to more marriages and less divorces.  Hmmm.

Look, I’m not saying everybody has to be drunk in love.  I’m simply saying if you don't like it, that's cool.  But don't condemn these folk for the song, the video or the performance.  Just like you have the right to voice your opinion, they have the right to express theirs.  Everything isn't a natural disaster.  Goodness!  So, I say hooray that Bey-Z decided to take a stand at the Grammy’s for real good love and real good sex between a married couples.  I’m happy they are unapologetic about it as well.  I certainly wouldn’t be. 

Often times we miss small bits of blessings because we aren’t focused on living and breathing in the moments as they come to us.  I’ve tried to be awake at all times as not to let life ease past me without me noticing.  In doing so, I have been blessed enough to catch the midst of other people’s blessings.  Recently I went to the E. Willander Wells Carnival of Fashion and this experience was no exception.  Needless to say, I was blessed over and over again and little had anything to do with the actual show.  Although, I was blessed by it as well, as my life goes, my most significant blessings came from my sisters.

Let me just walk you through that Saturday night.

First, I had planned to go with a good friend that I knew would enjoy the show as much as I would.  She wasn’t able to go and of course, I was discouraged as I don’t particularly like going to events alone and I could not get my husband to go with me.  But I was determined.  I got all dressed up and stumbled out into the cold, November night – anxious to see what Mr. Wells had been working on this year.

When I walked in the door, the first person I saw was my bestie, Chirvona and, as always with her, laying eyes on her put my spirit at ease.  I knew this was going to be a great night.  If all else failed I could just infuse myself into her date with her husband.  That’s how we roll. 

Then I looked up and saw Pam Confer dancing with the microphone in her hand.  I said to myself, “Wow, this is awesome.”  I began at that time to just relax and once I did, the energy of where I was and what was going on around me started to take flight.  There was a powerful feminine spirit guarding me there.

We started on the journey into the showroom.  I looked over my shoulder and I saw Tonja Murphy.  She’s another very strong force of a woman.  I could hardly contain my excitement. 

Then, I heard this powerful and familiar voice coming from back stage.  It was my mentor, Pam Junior, the show’s MC.  Oh my goodness she was gorgeous when she stepped beyond the curtain.  Such a powerful voice lives in her tiny-little frame.  She and I had recently had a conversation about her mother giving her a recorder to become familiar with her voice.  Now, I sat watching her and listening to her and I felt the blessing of being comfortable in her own skin and loving the sound of her voice.  I felt the midst.

The show started with Shelsie, a TAPS model.  WOW!  She was so beautiful.  She took strong strides and looked just like a pro.  I could see the growth in her from when we met during last year’s TAPS class.  She told me at that time that she wanted to model and was often told she was too big.  Well on that night, she was being celebrated for being full-sized and she was the ONLY full-size frame in the show.  I felt the midst.

I looked over at this woman who was smiling from ear to ear and recording Shelsie from the top of the runway to the bottom.  Since I was doing the same thing, I had to know who that was.  It was Sham, the TAPS Model Instructor.  She’d been Shelsie’s model coach at JSU and she invited Shelsie to come to the TAPS model call.  I could see the pride in Sham’s smile.  I was proud, but I can only imagine the blessing Sham was embracing just from seeing a product of her instruction being recognized by someone like E. Willander Wells.  AWESOME!  I felt the midst.

After the show, and after a plethora of emotion, I did a walk thru of the area just to feel the energy – it was very high.  A sister walked over to me and said, “I’ve been watching you.  I knew that I knew you.”  I said, “Where do you know me from?”  She politely said, “Facebook!”  Side note:  During the showcase, Pam had called this woman on the stage to introduce her to the audience.  She had founded an organization to help victims of domestic violence and Mr. Wells had gifted her for her work with women in the community.  But here she stood with me saying, “I’m Eva, I follow you in the JFP and on Facebook and you have the sweetest spirit.  God wanted me to tell you that.”  (Smile).  This sister, was blessed just an hour or so ago with recognition from others for her work, and then turned around and blessed me with recognition for mine.  Yep, that was all I could muster without shedding tears.  Eva held me and I held her and we blessed each other just for being sisters in the struggle and trying to be blessings to others.  Why?  Just because God says so.  I felt the midst.

Just before I was ready to exit, I ran back into Sham.  Now, Sham has taken a very precious place in my heart.  I could explain it in detail but I won’t because it’s her story to share.  But what I will say is that I have an enormous amount of respect for her.  Not only has she dedicated herself to what started out as just my vision (TAPS).  But she gives of herself to many others in this area on a regular basis.  God has blessed her with many talents and skills.  While she could be around this city acting very Hollywood, like some other folk with similar skills, she is still humble and very approachable.  She is friendly (most of the time) and she is open to growth.  We don’t see that every day in this city.  So, I cherish her heart and her soul.  I know that she struggles with certain things, but she continues to work hard and bless other people with her gifts.

Sham’s sister was the poster child for this event.  Sham was/is very proud of her sister.  She’s a beautiful model and finally someone had taken notice of it.  But, she fell ill and wasn’t able to be in the show.  By the end of the night, Sham had become overwhelmed with that fact.  I was there to listen and to take some of the emotion off of her.  It was heavy.  But I was there; I felt the midst of the blessing that is sisterly love.  

Now, I know this night wasn’t about me.  But this is how we often miss the blessings that come to us by being closed off to the universe.  Everything I do is about me if I welcome the universe to let it be.  Sure the show was outstanding.  But the blessing that I got from that evening was just a reflection of the Creator’s will for my life.  SISTERS.  They were all over the place that night.  The energy of womanhood was enormous.  The universe used this magnificently fabulous event to show me, yet again, that the power that we have in us is all around us.  His blessings for others are also blessings for us – IF we pay attention.   We can easily miss our small little midst if we don’t remain awake and astute to the power of living; the power of the living GOD. 

E. Willander Wells told me a few weeks ago when I was planning the TAPS showcase and visited him and Pam that “It will all be ok.  God will take care of it all.  Just don’t miss it.”  Well, that night his words sang out to me.  While he may have meant, don’t miss the show.  That night, I realized that God was using his voice to reach out to me and let me know that I was not to miss HIS blessings.  He sent that message through E because his show was the vessel by which God’s blessings would rain on others and I might catch the midst. Blessings were in abundance and I indeed felt the midst.

I have been wondering lately if I’ve been waiting for my abuser to apologize to me.  I have to consider that maybe this lack of closure is the reason why I still get so upset when I relive those moments.  I notice that I have been very careful not to name him.  I have to acknowledge that there is still an element of fear there.  I am not sure why I’m afraid.  I guess since he has never said out loud, “Funmi, I’m sorry that I stole your self-esteem and beat you repeatedly on numerous occasions”, that he simply still believes he did nothing wrong and that I asked for it. 

He was always a cheater.  He cheated on me with other women throughout our relationship.  I believed, every time, that he’d change.  Even when the girls told me that he didn’t want me and that he’d told them that I didn’t matter to him, I still took him back.  For the life of me I wish I had the same mental strength then as I do now.  I would love to back and either knock his brain out or walk out on him and never return.  He never would have expected either of those to happen.  I realize now that he had lost all respect for me as a woman when I took him back after the first time he punched me to the ground.  One he brought his girlfriend to our apartment and in front of her, asked his brother to tell me which one of us he wanted; to which his brother said, “You said you didn’t want Funmi anymore.”  By the time that happened, he saw me as worthless, I guess.  He didn’t care if he hurt me or not.  I cried and cried.  I tried to take enough sleeping pills to die that night.  He returned without the girl and I took him back.

Who could love someone who didn’t love herself enough to demand better treatment?

Or maybe it was the time when he called me 15 minutes before it was time to pick him up from work and told me that he had a ride.  Intuition told me to go anyway.  I did.  I saw him get into the car with another girl, in the driver’s side.  I followed him.  I tried to run them off the road.  He turned off and I went ahead to his house.  I got there before he did; his roommate let me in.  I sat there, pitiful, in tears.  He walked in, shoved me into the wall. He kicked me in my pregnant stomach while his roommate sat two doors down in his room listening to me beg for help.

When he got winded from throwing punches and kicks, he told me to leave.  I refused.  I have no idea what kept me there.  Was I afraid that if I left he wouldn’t love me?  He didn’t love me anyway.  Was I ashamed; too ashamed to face the other side of the door?  Did I expect him to beg for forgiveness?  What was I waiting for?  I could not pick myself up from the floor, in the corner, where he left me.  I couldn’t even bring myself to say any words.

He called my brother and told him to, “come get yo sister before I do something to her.”  I was so ashamed of myself.  What would my brother do?  What would he think of me?  I thought, “Should I just go before he gets here?”  I didn’t.  I have no idea how he got there so fast, but it seems like within minutes my brother was busting through the door.  His eyes were filled with despair and disappointment.  He said no words.  He picked his baby sister up off the floor and he carried me to my car.  His only words to me were, “Go home.”  To this day, he has never said another word to me about it.  I believe, now, that the shame from this one incident has kept me from being able to even look my brother in the eye to this day.  I’ve often wondered why things were so tense between us.  Why I never felt exactly comfortable around him.  Since he never said anything, I never knew how he felt about me after that.  So, I’ve been ashamed for nearly 20 years.  I’ve been embarrassed.

I never got a sorry from my abuser for ruining my relationship with my big brother!

When I think of all the pain, the hurt and the sadness I have experienced just because I was in love with a man who was unhappy with his own life, it makes my soul ache.  I have loathed his mere existence for years.  I have been fighting to get back to some small form of pride.  It has taken and continues to take years to process the damage just being with him has done to me.  Why can’t he now, years later, even bring himself to ask for forgiveness?  Even more importantly, when will I stop needing and expecting it?  I guess I feel like if he said he had learned from it or regrets how he treated me, I could let go of the anger.  His disregard of it, acting like it never happened, is another level of hurt for me to get pass. 

Years later, I still cry when I think of this abuse.  I’m not sure if I cry because I’m angry, hurt, or ashamed.  Each time I revisit these violent episodes, I get stronger, but I hurt all over again.  I have learned that you have to go through the storm to get to the blue sky.  Now, I can forgive myself for staying.  One day, I will forgive him for hurting me and breaking my spirit.  Most importantly though, I have to face my big brother and thank him for coming for me that horrible day.  Then, I suppose, the only thing left to do will be to stop hoping for an apology.  It won’t happen and I don’t need it!

ANNIVERSARY REFLECTION: The Children

When we were married, we took great intentional care in how we’d embrace our separate children.  He, with a daughter and a son, and me with a son, we wanted to be a whole family.  We agreed that we wanted to include the mothers of his children and the father of my son in our family.  Neither of us wanted to embrace the nature of what we’ve seen in blended families before.  We wanted no drama.  We wanted to expose our children to real love, real family, and real respect.

Well, the road has been rough.  Blended families are not easy.  It definitely hasn’t been easy for me.  There have been times when I felt really close to my husband’s daughter and times when that wasn’t the case.  There have been times where the same was the case for his son.  I remember that being the case with my husband and my son.  You never really know what to do or what to say to get to the relationship you want.  The kids have no idea but they really set the tone for what it will be.  Some think the adults set the tone, I disagree.  The kids (at a certain age) dictate how the relationship will be.

I’d like to think that I’ve made myself available for my step-children.  I’d like to think that they know how much I love them.  I’d like to think that they see in me a person who deserves respect.  But I know that I haven’t always done things the right way.  Children see our mistakes and they become a part of them.

When the relationship started getting serious, I felt like it had to be ok with my son first.  I found out that deep inside he still had hope that his father and I would find our way back to each other.  I think that hope directed how he’d react to my being with another man.  He said it was cool; but he acted differently.  He rebelled against my future husband.  It was difficult to diagnose initially.  But, we sat him down and explained that this was how life was going to be and he needed to honor me by respecting my choice to be with this man.  I also had to say words to him that cut him to the core: I am never going to be with your daddy again.  That part of my life is over.  Being that real with him was difficult.  But I've always treated him in a manner where sugar-coating was not acceptable.  Although, it took a while, he eventually got it (or he pretended to until he was convinced).

On our wedding day, our children spoke to us in the most beautiful way.  They announced to all who could hear them that they welcomed us as step parents.  Brad’s daughter said she’d always seen me as a step mother.  Shon, my son, told Brad that he looked forward to being his step-son.  While Julian, the youngest son, still seems to be adjusting, we are dedicated to proving to him and the rest of the kids that we are now and will always be a family.

We were prayerful for another child to bridge the gap and connect our families.  When we were finally blessed with this precious baby, it sort of sealed our belief that God placed us all together.  That single soul, The Little One, pieced together two different families and made us all one whole family. 

When we married each other, we married each others’ children.  We made vows to each other and to each other’s children.  So as we celebrate our fourth anniversary, we celebrate his children, my child - our children.  There is nothing more important to either of us than making up for the mistakes we made early in their lives. I believe that we've accepted our faults and have dedicated ourselves to doing better.  We know we’re not perfect human beings and so we understand we are not perfect parents.  But our love for our children is abundant.  Brandi was like 8 years old when I came into her father’s life.  She is now almost 19.  We’ve grown up with these children.  Now we get to watch them be adults.  WOW!

So to our children, on our anniversary, I want them to know that I cherish their very breath.  I have not done all the right things or said all the right things but there is no book of instructions on how to be a step mother.  You just have to be lead by love and find the role you’re supposed to play.  I admit I’ve had a hard time figuring out my role.  But, I’ve always been there and I always will be.  My love for your father makes my heart full of love for you, Brandi and Julian.  I’m sure Brad echoes these same sentiments with Shon.  We will travel the journey together with our only desire being to remain a family full of love and respect.  It is our desire to see you succeed in your chosen paths and that you learn- if nothing else- to let your path be guided by love.

“There are only two lasting bequests we can hope to give our children.  One of these is roots, the other, wings.” – Hodding Carter

Never forget your roots and always remember to fly!

Carnie Wilson might have put it best: “My husband and I are best of friends first and foremost.  We fight like cats and dogs, but never stay mad for long.  I was lucky to find him.  He is, in every way, my soul mate.”

As we prepare for our fourth year as man and wife, I can’t begin to describe the abundance of emotion I feel.  I’m a true to form sap, I own that.  But, the road that we’ve taken to find each other warrants such bountiful emotion.  Not to mention that the road continued to change after we found each other and then the bumps became too strenuous for us and we separated.  I thank the Creator every day that he saw what we didn’t.  He saw a partnership.  He saw our beautiful baby girl.  He saw the love that he wants all of his children to feel.  Then he brought us back together to stand together and face the world.

When I was younger, I had in my mind what I thought my husband would look like.  I mean really young, like about 9 or 10.  Back when I thought I’d be a lawyer.  I saw my husband being very dark skinned, with an undeniable sex appeal.  I saw his teeth being very straight and his lips curling perfectly around them to make a smile that could light the darkness.  I saw a man who was very strong willed and strong physically; the athletic type.  I saw a beard on his face (well groomed).  As hard as it may be to believe this, I saw in his eyes, that he saw me.  Yes, even way back then.

Throughout my dating life, I never came in contact with this man.  In high school the guys I liked looked nothing like my dream husband.  I was into the dudes who played sports but they had one or two things but not the total package as I’d seen in my pre-adolescent dreams.  I spent most of my young adult life with a man that was the total opposite of what I was attracted to.  I left my home state and I still never saw this man, my dream man.  So of course I stopped looking for him.  In fact, I didn’t believe he existed.  By the time I was real good and grown I was damaged and didn’t even believe in marriage.  Therefore, my dream husband became a fantasy and I chalked it all up to childhood imagination – much like my desire to be a lawyer which had also disappeared.

We’ve told the story many times about how we first saw each other at Phingprint’s house.  I paid him little attention.  We’ve talked about meeting at the Jackson Music Awards where he asked me to marry him.  It wasn’t until this year’s reflection that I realized why I was touched by his one-liner.  It’s because it was him; my dream husband.  Since I believe that our paths have always been covered by the Creator, I believe that’s why his first words to me were, “Will you be my wife?” I also believe that’s why it didn’t sound like a pick up line, but an actual proposal.  It was meant to stick with me and it has.  I still get that same feeling today as I did that night.  God was showing me the man of my dreams.  As with most things God shows me, it was little room for doubt.  He looked exactly like my husband.  He fit every description to the tee.  He warmed my heart from the very first words from his mouth.  He was my soul mate and we both knew it right from the start.

People seem to believe that being with a soul mate means that the relationship will be easy and things will always be flowery and sunny.  Trust me that is not even remotely the case.  We are still two very strong minded individuals – one of the things we love about each other.  Often times, we disagree on things.  In fact, we disagree about half the time.  We have the craziest arguments known to man.  Sometimes I wish we could record them, as I am sure they would make for entertainment for many.  After many years, it was our differences that caused us to separate.  We simply couldn’t find a way back to each other after the first couple of years.  We started to grow apart.  But we did what many people don’t and their relationships never mend – we broke up!  It was the absolute best thing that could have happened to us.  Separated for about three years, I dated other people and so did he.  We learned from the experience that while band-aids make us feel better in the moment, when we went to bed each night, our last thought was of each other (FOR THREE YEARS).  Physically, we were apart, but spiritually we were growing closer day by day, night by night.

Thankfully, we found our way back to each other.  There were no more doubts about if this was it; if we should marry; if we are meant to be together.  We have never doubted since that day that we are one for life.  We know exactly how blessed we are that God knows us better than we do. 

For my friends who think love is this perfect peace that falls down like rain drops, I say to you it isn’t.  While it’s peaceful and pleasant and should add great things to your life, don’t believe there won’t be rain.  Don’t believe the hard times won’t find you.  Don’t believe that having a wedding makes a marriage.  It takes two people bringing their individuality together and agreeing with free-will and honesty, to unify .  From that moment, know that it is no longer a me and a you; it’s simply US.  No matter what it looks like on the outside to other people, the “US” is all that matters. We learned that lesson on our own and we've received confirmation together.

I’ll never say that the road is easy.  I’ll never say there won’t be mistakes made or tears shed. I’ll never say that I won’t curse him out, hang up on him, and slam the door in his face.  But I will say that I was born to be my husband’s wife and vice versa.  All the rest is just living.  When it’s rough, we’ll grab each other’s hand and face the wind.  We are fully aware that there will be trials, hell, we’ve seen quite a few already.  But we believe in each other, in our love and in the Creator. 

As we go into this fourth year of marriage, I simply want to say to my husband, I STAND WITH YOU.  No matter what you face for the rest of your life, I stand with you.  When you are confused about direction, I stand with you.  When you want to record an album, I stand with you.  When you want to start a new project, I stand with you.  When you’re feeling low and heavy, I stand with you.  When you don’t know which way to turn, I will hold your hand and together we will turn to GOD.  I STAND WITH YOU.  I am thankful for my dream husband who has become my real life husband.  But above all else, I am thankful for the roads that we both traveled to prepare for each other.  I wouldn’t change a thing.  I have married my best friend, my childhood dream man, my soul mate. 

Happy Anniversary Hubs!

Nearing 90 years of life, she sat on the edge of her chair/bed starring into my daughter’s eyes as if there was some clue there as to who she was. 

“Whose baby is that?”My grandmother asked my Aunt who took great pleasure in presenting Bralynn as a surprise while I stood in wait to make my dash into Grandma’s eye sight.  I stood there and had a brief moment of hope that even though she’d only met Bralynn once, something in her aged heart would make her know that this was my baby – the grandchild of her first born son. 

But she didn’t know her.

I called in to her, “Grandma, you don’t know this beautiful little girl?”  Without seeing me, she said with a relief that I pray I never forget, “Funmi.  Funmi is that you!”

 “Yes, it’s me!” I looked into the eyes of a woman who has traced down life’s winding road in a way that I know The Creator would marvel upon.  She’s witnessed all of her siblings’ transition and favorite cousins have gone on before her.  However, the most remarkable of all is the fact that she has lived through the death of a child; a son; her first child.

I sat outside with her caregiver for our catch up session that I’ve come to cherish.  Ms. Pat has all the goods on how G’ma is really doing.  I want to know the truth about the good and the bad days.  Her age has begun to welcome dementia.  While, it’s hard for me to see the bad days, I know they are there.  I wanted to hear Ms. Pat tell me what happens when she slips.  She explained to me that my grandmother, on bad days, forgets how to answer the phone.  I remember when I lived with her, she was always on the phone chatting it up with her friends.  I found it particularly interesting that the phone gets on her nerves some days.

“She often speaks of her siblings and her mother”, Ms. Pat explained.  I never heard my grandmother speak about her mother.  I was thrilled about that.  I know dementia takes its victims back to memories of early life.  I find comfort in the idea that she’s remembering being a daughter instead of a mother or grandmother.  I wish I could have a glimpse of a younger Evelyn prancing around with her beautiful smile and curves galore.  That makes me smile.

Then, Ms. Pat started to explain how she listens to stories about my daddy. I began to feel a little sad.  But it was nothing compared to hearing her discuss how much she hears about me.  “Funmi, she talks about you all the time.”  I knew what that meant.  I couldn’t respond.  But, I internalized it to process later.

On the ride back home, I began to process what I’d learned from Ms. Pat.  Tears began to meet at my chin.  I know why she talks about me all the time.  I know why our bond is so thick and strong.  I know why there is such a connection between us.  When she looks at me, she sees her child.  She sees, with ease, what’s left of her son.  In me, she sees the child that has gone before her.  I’m sure, now, that she has always seen him in me.  I believe that when I was born and the universe knew the story of my father’s life would be brief, it breathed relief for her in me.  She’s able to find solace in his departure in my voice.  In my eyes, she can see his face.

I can’t imagine what it’s like to have to say goodbye to a life to whom you’ve given birth.  But, I have watched my father’s mother exist even in the pain that visits her daily.  I’ve watched her cry when it’s too much to look at me.  I’ve cried with her.  I’ve even called her on his birthday and cried because I know that she’s the only person in the world who could possibly understand that stinging pain of not having him with us. 

The bond that rests in the blood lines of family should never be crossed.  It is our foundation and it is to be valued and cherished.  Our time here is short and if we spend time on things that don’t matter, we fail to offer time to that which does.  You can make all the money in the world; receive accolades and rewards; and, accomplish great things in this life.  But what matters are the lives that touch you and those that you touch.  Family is where that all starts and it should never be an option.  My family reminded me of that recently.  Respect the blood that flows through you and respect the people who share it with you.

Dear Life,

Greetings friend.  It’s been a minute since we actually talked.  I know you’ve been busy kicking up dust and running amuck.  I’ve tried to keep up with you, but every time I think I have you cornered, you pull some sort of trickery.  I must admit that you keep me at odds with myself, but I never give up on the chase.

I remember when I was much younger, I had you totally confused.  I thought I was supposed to follow your lead.  I thought you made the plan and I was expected to just stay in line.  I tried so hard not to upset you.  You tend to be very vindictive.  I didn’t want to square up with you.  I mean, let’s be clear, my first real introduction to your power was when you snatched my daddy away when I was 13.  I have to admit that I’ve probably let you control me every since that moment.  The moment in the hospital room when all the family sat around listening to that preacher pray over my daddy.  I should have known that you were full of shit then.  How?  Because, while you were trying to steal away in some safe and secure part of my soul, I watched Daddy’s soul leave his body and look down over us.  Not a single soul saw that but me, I assume.  I should have known at that very moment that you are not the highest power.  You are working for the same power that breathed life in me; the same one that lifted my daddy’s soul from that bed.

But, I was young.  I didn’t know what that meant.  So, I let you hide away in the depth of my being.  I let you kidnap my desire to prevail.  I let you ease into my spirit and dictate my path.  Once I gave into you, I became your prisoner.  I was at your beck and call.

When you showed up again, I thought we were getting along pretty well.  You let me feel loved again.  Something you’d convinced me was impossible even though my mother and my siblings never ever stopped loving me.  You convinced me that no one could love me but my Daddy and since he was gone, it was futile to even hope for it.  Then this man showed up.  I didn’t even like him at first.  But you made me think that I needed him.  So I gave into you yet again.  I let you keep me there – confused, broken, hurt, damaged, victimized and abused.  I let you tell me that this was what I had to look forward to.  So I stayed.  For years, far too many – I stayed.  I went through all kinds of hell during that time.  I found myself abused while being abused by a totally separate man.  You must have really been threatened by what I stood to gain from being clear and being love.  You must have known that I have all the power in me to not be controlled by you.  The only thing that made me vulnerable was the fact that I did not know how to love myself.

Even when I was finally released from that time period of hell, you meant to keep me bound.  You had already stolen all my dreams.  You’d already succeeded in me feeling unworthy.  I didn’t feel smart anymore.  I didn’t feel pretty anymore.  I didn’t feel any of the things my parents had taught me.  You had broken me down to the core and I was afraid of you.  Yes, life, I was afraid of you.  You beat me down to a mere token of a person.  Then you made the worse mistake possible.  You got greedy.  You fucked up.

You took my mama.  You took my everything from me.  There was nothing left for me to lose at that point.  I walked around in a daze for two years after she left.  I was weary and worn.  I didn’t care anymore what you did with me.  I didn’t care about how much control you had.  I was done.  I hit rock bottom.  You know the thing about hitting rock bottom.  There is nowhere to go but up after that.  There is nothing to do but either die or be born again.  You see at this point it wasn’t about you, life.  At this point, you’d allowed my mother and my father to share the same spiritual space.  They’d gathered together with the same force that picked my daddy up from that hospital bed.  They’d joined together now.  The same force that was sending my mother to me in my dreams was meeting them.  That force sent my mother to me to show me that you – life – are not as powerful as what comes before and after you.  You don’t hold any cards on me.  You don’t make me who I am.  All you are is a vessel just like me.  You have no more power over me than I give you.

So my Mama and my Daddy got together and they pulled me out of your dungeon of hate and despair.  They did like they’ve done all my life.  They directed me.  Even beyond what you thought you’d given them, they still live. So I ask you, dear life, who has the power?  You are temporary.  True living is in our hearts and soul.  True living is in our smiles and in our tears.  True living is in every act of kindness, every prayer.  You don’t have the power to control me.  You can’t make me unhappy.  You can’t take what happens to me and claim it as your property.  No!  That belongs to the Almighty.  That belongs to the power that created all things, including you. 

So, while I could easily say that I hate what you’ve done to me.  I could say that I hate how you’ve made the last two decades of my life pure hell.  Sure I could tell you that you’ve stolen the best years from me and I would be well within my right to hate you.  But God has taken what was meant to be ugly and made it beautiful.  God has created in me a brand new respect for TRUE living.  God has shown me the glory that you are; that I never before witnessed.  Since you are of God and so am I.  No, Life, I don’t hate you.  I love you.  I welcome you.  Most of all, I thank you.  I’m a vessel for the glory of God today and had you not been a thorn in my side, I would have ever learned how to respect you.

I see you now.  And for the first time in my ENTIRE LIFE, I finally see me!  I see my life.  You don’t claim me, I claim YOU.  You are MY life.  I don’t belong to you anymore.  You will not ever again relish in my pain; control my happiness.  You can’t even keep my mother and my father away from me.  They are stronger than you are.  They live in me, and we, with The Creator.  I AM LIFE!

Love always,

Funmi Folayan Franklin

I’m always a critic.  It’s in my blood.  Maybe because I’ve been criticized so much that I simply learned by default.  A critic can access something from a place of balance.  I haven’t always been balanced, but I’m learning how to do that.  Last night’s BET awards gave me another opportunity to test my skills.  While I spent most of the night – minus the hour break to watch True Blood- making jokes about simple things like clothing, and unimportant rhetoric.  But this morning as I review the blogs and check out the pictures, I am inspired to actually give some thought to what we witnessed last night.

First we saw Chris Tucker, with glimpses of Smokey, make his way back into mainstream attention.  While many found him to be un-funny, I actually chuckled a bit at Tucker.  I liked that he spoke about his tax issues and pointed out others in the audience who have been faced with those issues.  But he didn’t miss the opportunity to tell a room full of high selling, money making celebrities to pay their taxes.  Hopefully, that was a teachable moment for them as we have evidence that you can and will go to jail for not doing so (see Lauryn Hill, Wesley Snipes, and Fat Joe).  Chris even took us down memory lane and gave us permission to laugh at Michael Jackson again.  I for one have refrained since he passed just out of respect.  But I suppose, Michael’s friend making jokes about him is avenue to laugh again.

The best part of any awards show, to me, is the live performances.  I love to see the stage shows and I always hope that the direction comes from the artist themselves.  While I know, generally, it doesn’t, it doesn’t stop me from hoping it does.  I am a fan of Chris Brown’s live shows, but I didn’t think very much of his attempt to open the show last night.  It seemed to lack luster and failed in comparison to other shows he’s done.  He may not be opening again based on that performance.

I have heard much about Kendrick Lamar and J. Cole over the last year, but I never watch videos and I don’t listen to the radio, so my interest had not yet been peaked.  However, last night I realized what people are chatting about.  First, it was so refreshing to see some real rapping on an awards show that wasn’t too lyrical and not lyrical enough all at the same time.  I personally need a break from what rap has become.  I’m sick of Drake (and everyone repeating his sound like they did TPain some years back).  And, don’t get me started on 2Chains who, to me is about as ridiculous as Soldier Boy. 

Lamar and Cole both gave me a feeling of real rap returning.  I found that I’d already be jamming to both of their songs already without even knowing who the artist was.  So, I’m thankful for the return of rap and hope that these two (as well as others I’m sure) can inspire youngsters to put some time into the craft and recognize the culture instead of the opportunity to get paid.  Having said that, the guy with the iphone guitar….. please people don’t kill the music in that fashion.  Let’s not go there, ok?

Erykah Badu continues to amaze!  She did what very few have done before her – make women and men alike take note of that junk in the trunk.  Go head Erykah!

I still find myself hoping that Free will appear on the stage out the blue.  There will never be anyone as attached to the idea of BET like Free (and AJ).  I like Angela Simmons and I kinda like Bow Wow, but they are no Free and AJ.  Then again, no one will ever be.  BRING BACK FREE!!!!

As I get ready to go, let me just say that any person who is now or is working toward being a professional entertainer, please give special attention to the performance from Charlie Wilson.  He said it himself.  Of all the lifetime achievement recipients, he is the only one still topping charts and performing.  He still sounds good and his show was still amazing after decades in the business.  He did not allow the superstars to upstage him and he maintained his excellence on stage.  While I am probably the hugest R. Kelly fan you will ever meet, it was clear that Kellz didn’t put much into his show (granted with all the hits he has, he really doesn’t have to), Charlie Wilson remains a favorite because his stage show was high energy and fun.  Never underestimate the power of getting people up out of their chairs.  Its not easy to do when performing in front of people who aren’t easily impressed, but Uncle Charlie did it with no problem. 

Til next year, this has been the Queen’s Award Review.

I’ll holla…..

Let’s be real!  Blended families are hard.  There are no easy answers and no one family dynamic is the same.  My mother had five other children before she met my father.  When he came into the picture my oldest brothers were nearly grown.  However, there was a level of respect there, which I never questioned.  I believe that my older siblings loved our mother so much that they wouldn’t dare interfere with anything that brought her happiness.

As I’ve grown older, I’ve learned of some decisions that my parents made that were not in the children’s best interest.  But, I know they believed it to be at the time.  Point is there was never a doubt about who the parents were.  Nor was there any doubt that my father loved my mother’s children as his own.  I believe he could have done a better job, but as I said, blended families are not easy.

My husband and I both came into our marriage with children.  He already had two – a girl and a boy, and I had a son.  It was a bit easy for me with the girl because we had moments of bonding like braiding her hair that I didn’t get with his son.  But we actually sat the children down together and individually to explain to them what was happening in our relationship.  We both wanted them to be on board.  If there was any resentment or any level of discomfort, we wanted the children to know that they could tell us.  None of the three of them expressed an issue with us being together and beginning our lives in unison, but later, both of the boys acted out.  Turns out, it was a bit more difficult on the boys to accept their father/mother not being together than it was for my step-daughter.  I still don’t understand that.

My son actually told us that he didn’t want to accept Brad, but he would because he loved me.  It took some time, but my husband went above and beyond to prove to my son that he could trust him as a father figure.  Eventually, they built a strong bond and my son now cherishes this man as his step-father.  I have tried to do the same with his children. 

I’m not sure that many families do that and I’m almost certain that most don’t do the second necessary part which is have a conversation with the biological parents.  My husband spoke to his children’s mothers out of respect for them to let them know our relationship was serious and moving to the next level.  When his daughter’s mother got married, she did the same thing.  There is a level of respect that requires this communication.  It’s impossible to raise children when the parents can’t get along and do not present a united front.  Children can sense when the adults in their lives are caught in sensitive, dramatic situations and they do what children do – manipulate them.  It’s hard to stay focused on the parental guidance required of us when we are stuck in relationship drama and lack of closure.

I know this first hand because while we took care of this with my husband’s children, I never had this conversation with my son’s step mother.  I tried.  But I was met with resistance.  I can only assume that it’s because the father did not communicate with me or his wife to keep things open.  Some disdain grew and to this day it is not a pleasant situation.  My son is now preparing to go off to college so I am hoping that the situation fixes itself.  I’ll be the first to say that I could have stepped up and done more, I suppose, to create a good line of communication.  But I won’t accept the blame on my own.  That would be ridiculous.

I can warn couples who have children coming into their marriages that you must bring closure to the old relationships before committing to a new one.  You can’t bring closure without communication.  You can’t expect the other person to know the relationship is over just because you don’t come around anymore.  Sure they’ll get the point, eventually.  But, the mature thing is to alleviate any room for misconception and hurt feelings.  This can only lead of confusion and conflict and this can go on and on for years if not addressed.

Then, you have to be honest with your child.  Clearly advise that this decision to move on with someone new includes them.  Just because you are no longer with the mother/father, doesn’t mean that the child somehow looses a parent.  Show them that this is just an opportunity to have two complete families.  It’s all in the way you handle things.  I am still very giddy about the fact that the first time I spent Christmas with my husband’s family the mothers and children were there – including my son.  I didn’t even know that was possible.  I have to laugh because I remember thinking “who does this?”  But I have spent graduations, birthdays, holidays, etc… with them many times since that first time.  Before this relationship, this entire idea was foreign to me.  I’d never met a baby mama that didn’t hate me and/or the father of her children for whatever reason. 

I also would be remised if I didn’t mention that speaking negatively about your ex or about your ex’s ex is highly inappropriate and immature.  There is never a cause that should warrant speaking negatively to your child or step-child about their parent.  If you feel like the father is a creep or the mother is full of drama, fine.  Chances are you don’t have the entire story.  But let’s just say they are dramatic or creepy, it’s not your place to fill your child’s head with YOUR impression of their parent.  That child deserves to make their own decision about their parent.  Let time tell it, not you.  If the father really is a dead beat, you won’t have to tell the child that.  Soon enough they’ll figure it out.  If the mother really is just greedy and doesn’t want to work, your child will see that without your input.  All you really do when you spew that type of negativity is hurt the child.

This brings me to my last point.  If you cannot love your mate’s child as your very own, don’t even pretend to try.  That child will sense that, hear it, and learn that.  Then you will have created a child who is damaged before even reaching adulthood.  I’ve seen step-parents who literally destroy their step-children with angry words and careless behavior.  I find it to be absolutely disgusting.  You can’t truly love the man/woman you’re with if you can’t bring yourself to love his/her off-spring.  It’s quite simple, really. 

So, I urge you, who find yourselves in blended families, to take intentional steps to be inclusive with the biological parents.  Go the extra mile to embrace the children of those relationships.  If you can’t love those children like they belong to you, forgo the entire relationship.  I’d venture that you don’t even love yourself, but that’s an entirely different column.  I was born into a blended family and I find myself in one of my own.  I’m a witness that it’s hard.  You sort of have to just take it as it comes.  We are still trying to get it right.  But, I know that it takes all the parents being on board with the idea of making the family work.  I attest to the fact that there will be hurt feelings and tears before it’s all done.  Still, I can also declare that it can work.  Everyone just has to want it to work. 

Daddy,

I’m writing to you today because we are in the middle of an election for Mayor of Jackson and I can’t help but think of you.  I’ve been wondering for the last couple of months about what your thoughts would be about this election, about Jackson today.  I can’t seem to come up with any suitable answers as to what you would say to me regarding this.  Maybe it’s because it’s been so long since you transitioned.  Maybe it’s because while I remember so very much about your life as a civil rights activist here, what I cherish most and identify with most is the Daddy you were after we left Jackson for New York.

Still though, in my desire to remain in line with the work you did here, it’s always been important to me that I follow closely to the legacy you left.  Being a woman, my challenges and struggles are a bit different from yours, I think.  But, there is still struggle.

I remember sitting in the den of our home on Laredo Drive in Clinton listening to you talk with friends like Bro. Hollis Watkins, Bro. Frank Figgers even Kwame Ture’ and many others.  Yes, I do remember that.  I remember that the biggest challenge was getting black people on one accord.  Well, here we are today, in Jackson, MS and that challenge is STILL prevalent.  We are still divided.  We are still confused.  We are still untrusting and damaged.  I am beginning to believe that the cause is lost here.  Maybe we should accept things as they are and do the best we can to just live.

LOL.  Yes sir, I know that’s not an option.

At any rate, it does get to be just a tad bit frustrating.  I’m sure you know all about that.  Keda was telling me last night when I called her crying that what Brad and I are going through is exactly what you and Mama went through with the Black and Proud School.  So, I suppose if you all made it work, we certainly can.  I think it’s a shame that trying to do the best we can to work on behalf of our people has created such hardship and hurt.  But it goes with the territory I suppose.  

So, I guess I have been asking the wrong questions.  I‘ve wondered about what you would do.  Who you’d be supporting in this election?  Would you agree with my candidate of choice?  I see now that I shouldn’t be concerned so much about that.  What I should be concerned about is continuing to do the work.  I should be focused on remaining true to what you’ve taught me and figuring out how to be a vessel in this community to bridge that which I know to be true and what I’m learning to be true.  I’m going to have to stand firm on my beliefs and my choices as you and Mama did.  I have to trust in my gut and waver not. 

At our wedding reception, Mama said that I’d gone and married a man much like you.  I thought that was cute but I didn’t really understand why she was sort of emotional about that.  I believe it’s because she knew that the struggle of being married to a man like you two is REAL.  It is.  People make judgments and do a lot of talking about stuff they know nothing about.  Not to mention that many people don’t like folk who challenge the system and fight for common sense and fairness.  I wondered what Mama meant when she said she didn’t have to worry about me anymore.  I guess she saw our path as a mirror to the one you two traveled.  It was a rough road but yall traveled it together. 

So, my questions have been answered in this letter that will likely make no sense to anyone but me.  However, I’m satisfied.  I am faithful to the work.  I am faithful to my community.  I am faithful to progression.  I am faithful to Jackson.  I am faithful to my Mayoral Candidate; and, faithful to my husband.

PS.  He’s having a concert on your birthday this year!  I choose to believe that will be a celebration of two of the greatest men I have been fortunate enough to share my world with. 

Love your Zuzu,

Funmi