My Black History

I honor of black history month I want to start by giving you a little of my foundation. The origin of my strength, love and faith in God. 

The woman in the picture is Albertha Wheeler Mccoy (Mabert), born February 1, 1904. She was born and raised on an Indian reservation in Early County Georgia. Her mother a full blooded indian, her father a black man, Mabert and her siblings bore the resemblance of both parents ( soft long hair, smooth deep brown skin and piercing blueish gray eyes).  Albertha married John Mccoy(Grand daddy John)at a early age and started a family.  The Mccoy clan grew to 11 child but Mabert was a mother to many many more.

People who grew up around her often talked about her strength and wisdom.  They spoke of the love she had for others and God. I remember her telling me how she walked miles on Sunday to get kids for Sunday School and after church she would walk them all back home. People have spoke of how she always feed, clothed and housed people in need.

Some of my fondest memories were of Mabert and some of the greatest knowledge I have came from her. I remember sitting in the house watching The Young & Restless with her while the other kids played outside. I remember how she would nod off and I would say Mabert you sleep but she would wake up and tell me everything that happened.  I remember the conversation we had when she found out I was pregnant with Zayed and how she said she wouldn't get to see him be born but to "bare down and have that baby." 

She was so strong, she never complained of illness or pain. On her final day, she just peacefully transitioned to heaven after telling us that she was going to have breakfast with her husband( who died before I was born). Listening to her morning spirituals as she did every morning, within 3 minutes of her making that statement, she was gone.

Of all the children, grand children and even great grand children that had come from the Mccoy clan, none ever had the pleasure of sharing the same birth month as Mabert. However, after her death in September, I gave birth to that baby that she said she wouldn't be alive to see on February 9th.  While she may not have been there physically I remembered exactly what she told me, "bare down and have that baby" and that is what is did..... HAPPY BIRTHDAY MABERT, REST IN PEACE AND LOVE! #PHATGIRLFRESH

THE SOUL OF SISTERS

I was watching Oprah's Life Classes with Iyanla Vanzant this past Sunday and I was moved.  They were examining the relationships that women have with one another. They were shining light on the reason women are so hard on one another.  I must say that I was immediately able to identy with every thing that they were speaking one.  Now I would be a liar(which I am not), if I told you that I had not been the aggressor in many situations in my life time.  I have gossiped, I have been mean, I have competed and even been petty.  I have also been the victim. Which really tied into the fact that, "EVERYTHING WE PUT OUT INTO THE UNIVERSE AT SOME POINT RETURNS TO US".  My question as an adult woman who sees her flaws, faults and knows better is, how do we stop the cycle? How do we begin to respect one another as women? 

Like I said before, I have been both victim and aggressor in these type situations.  Honestly I only in recent years begin to see the error of my ways.  I have always been this strong willed person.  Even when I fell victim to mean girls.  During middle/high school, I was not at all the most popular.  I was physically more mature than other girls my age.  Although I had nice clothes, my mom didn't allow us to wear many of the things other girls wore.  Yeah, I got to go places and do things but there were major restrictions.  All of these things made me a target.  However, honestly I never cared. I was comfortable with who I was and I never aspired to be anyone different. 

I guess because my mother instilled certain things in my, I was always this strong uncompromising person.  It wasn't until I was an adult that I learned that comprise isn't all bad.  My mom always taught me to, "talk two time talk", meaning if you say it once be prepared to say it again.  Now I have lived by that all my life but the reality is, even though you say it again, you can still be wrong.  I have always known I was pretty but I have down talked or competed with others.  Maybe I did it because I wasnt happy with my body.  Maybe it was because I wanted something that the next sister had. Maybe, I didn't feel she deserved what she had.  Whatever the reason...... I did it.  I learned at a young age, that you dont have to be friends with everyone you come in contact with but, did I have to be mean?  The answer is no, but many times I was.  Not thinking about my sister's feelings, only knowing that I wasnt willing to compromise what I felt. 

I know that I give my mother credit for much  of my character, but in no way am I speaking negatively of the roots and wings she gave me.  What I am saying is I used the strength, knowledge and life tools she equipped me with in the wrong way on occasions.  I guess that is what she meant when she said, "I tell you things so you will have a good start up but eventually you will use that to come into your own".  While coming into my own I guess I begin to conform to societies norm. 

It has become a fact that women don't work well together.  Anytime there is a group of women, the likeliness that drama, gossiping and competition will arise is great.  I think that it is sad that women are unable to have the freedom to connect the way men do.  Yeah men have issues with one another but not to the extent that women do.  Why are the souls of sisters so heavy?  Why do we feel the need to rip one another apart?  Why can't we all be great, and appreciate the greatness in one another?