Friday, July 12, 2013


I am a black woman with a baby and without a man.  This does not mean I am not savvy or not sophisticated.  I had Belle at thirty-five, not fifteen.  The life I had before Belle included a Catholic upbringing, a twelve year Catholic school education, a university degree, an inheritance, a trip to Europe, a very brief acting career, professional certificates, property management and a move.  I have led a rich and varied life.  It saddens me when people make assumptions based on looks and profiles.  It should not surprise anyone that I went farther than high school.  Eyes should not glaze over when I introduce myself as a hypnotherapist.  Unfortunately, I live in a world where I am seen as the maid or a resident of a program in my own home.  I could not possibly be who I say I am because I am a black woman with a baby and without a man, and yet I am.


  1. I once met a man in denim overalls who was bright red with a tan outside of them, overweight, with a massive southern accent. I was working overnight in walmart, stocking shelves. He wanted Velcro.
    He was a red neck. Litterally. The neckw as red.
    You know what we talked about as I showed him where it was kept?
    Reincarnation. Philosophy. His desire to see the world, particularly England.
    He taught me never to look at someone and think you know who they are because you've seen it on TV. I should have thanked him, in hindsight.
    It would have shocked anyone who overheard either of us, because of what we wore and what we did for a living.
    It's a shame. People should know better.