Categories
black women friendships relationships sisterhood Uncategorized

A Message to Molly

Molly, Molly, Molly! Child, what are you doing? I tried to root for you but this season you have made it extremely hard because you have definitely been on one. If this is what getting a man and being in a relationship does to you, stay single. I say that because since the beginning of the season and since you’ve been boo’d up with Andrew, you have been coming for Issa. It’s like Andrew gave you the courage to say the things you have always wanted to say.
Let me back up a bit. You have always been brutally honest with Issa. I don’t think you ever hid your discontent for her lack of motivation when she was with “We Got Y’all.” However, it was always clear that you wanted the best for her.
This season, though, your honesty has been tinted with an extra layer of cruelty. It’s been hard to watch. Your brutal honesty has been an excuse just to be mean and you fully mastered that. Is Andrew the catalyst for you revealing all of the things that you have always felt about Issa-she’s a user and a drama queen? Which begs the question, “Were you ever really Issa’s friend?’”
Honestly, all of your fan-friends ( we are part of the friend group too) are judging you. You seem to be the friend in the group who is only happy as long as you are on top. As soon as someone else starts to glow-up, even just a little bit, that green-eyed devil starts to rear its ugly head. You start making it a point to highlight every personal flaw you’ve ever noticed. Why? To keep it real. That’s not honesty, sis. That’s just jealousy and you should be a better friend than that.
Don’t get me wrong, Issa has been throwing slugs at you too. She certainly has her issues. However, as the last episode was so aptly named, she was at least “Lowkey Trying.”
I was so glad when you decided to go to therapy, but the crucial thing about therapy….listening to the therapist. I felt like your therapist was trying to get you to own your shit. If she’s wasn’t, then we, your fan-friends, definitely wanted you to own it. And so was Issa. She just wanted you to take the initiative to own your shit, be honest, and make things right. We all did! We wanted you to at least admit that you were wrong for charging that girl up at her block party. Your behavior was petty and, if not vindictive, certainly passive-aggressive. Admit it, apologize for it, and MEAN IT!
Some people naturally extend olive branches. We are just olive branch people. Olive-branchers if you will. Olive-branchers love our friends so we overlook a lot while constantly giving grace. You are giver too. Yet, you give material things, and giving grace is about being vulnerable. It is about meeting the other person half-way, and forgiving even when it isn’t deserved.
Issa wanted to know that you valued her enough to admit that you were wrong for your part. She wanted to know that she mattered enough to you for you to reach out first. Sometimes we, olive-branchers, just want to hear you say, “I’m sorry.” It means you care. And if you couldn’t do that, if you wouldn’t accept responsibility for hurting your friend with your words and try to make the relationship work, were you ever truly really her friend anyway? That was hard for her to digest.
And when we, fan-friends and Issa, realized that you weren’t willing to do that, we were hurt. Losing a friend is hurtful. It’s like getting a divorce- you have to tell people you broke up, split friends up, delete phone numbers, remove pics on Facebook and Instagram, etc. It’s too much!
The one thing I learned appreciate about you, Molly, was that your cut-off game. You were committed to not apologizing for the shit you meant to say. But, wasn’t that the sad part? You felt that your best friend was a “using ass bitch,” and your pride wouldn’t allow you to give in even a little bit.
Molly, you have been the common denominator-issues with Dro, your dad, Issa, and your co-workers. Stop, look in the mirror, and check yourself. Like they used to say back in the day, “Sweep around your own front door.”
So, on behalf of Issa and all of the fan-friends around the world, I am asking you, begging you, to get your shit together. Go back to your friend and work this shit out because if you don’t, we are all gonna be “Lowkey disappointed.”

Signed,

A Concerned Fan-Friend

Categories
African American Sororities black women friendships relationships sisterhood sororities Uncategorized women

In My Feelings

This past weekend, my line sisters and I participated in the Dallas-Fort Worth Area Joint Founders Day Celebration for Delta Sigma Theta Sorority, Inc. We, along with more than 100 other women, were honored and we celebrated 25 years as members in the largest and one the most influential African American sororities in the nation. This was a pretty awesome day. Well, it should have been awesome. There were so many positive things happening, but the only thing that I could really focus on was the negative conversation in my head. As you read this post, please don’t think that I am looking for sympathy. That is not my steelo (for all of my non-90’s readers, that’s hip hop lingo for style). I guess what I am trying to do is process what I am thinking and feeling so I can end the conversation in my head and move on.

Anyway, what should have been a glorious and grand day was almost a bummer and it was no one’s fault but my own. You see for most of the day all I did was criticize myself in my head. My outfit didn’t fit right. The braids on my hair were awesome, but my edges wouldn’t stay down. My hips were on full display, and not in a good way. It didn’t matter if I turned to the left or to the right, whether I crossed my legs or stood straight, none the pics I took were flattering.  I should have picked the other pair of shoes. My pearls weren’t pretty enough. When I walked I could feel myself waddle. I even ran into the back of my line sister during the processional. I was soooo over the day. I just couldn’t feel what I should have been feeling. I should have been excited. Yet, all I could think about was how out of place I felt. Not because I was in a room full of bosses and change agents. Not because I wasn’t smart enough to be there, or that I hadn’t worked hard (well…for a few years I took a vacation). Not because my line sisters and chapter sorors make me feel bad or judge me. Nope. For the most part, they think I’m pretty dope. And, I think they are amazing! We have no problem gassing each other up. It was simply because I let negative thoughts cloud my thinking.

You see, I’m my own worst critic. Some would say I am self-deprecating. I’m not sure if that is the correct word, but I am definitely hyper-critical of myself. Yesterday, it almost got the best of me. I can honestly say that even listening to the keynote speaker, one of my Founders granddaughters and my national chaplain, THE Vashti Murphy McKenzie, tell me emphatically to “SLAY IN MY LANE,” I couldn’t shake that feeling of…dissatisfaction. I just knew I wasn’t happy with myself and it sucked. 

So on a day that is filled with some fantastic memories of being with some of my very best friends for 25 years, some pretty amazing big sisters and mentors, some of the sweetest neos (my little sisters), celebrating a huge milestone, and in addition, celebrating my line sisters 50th birthday party (it was EPIC), I allowed myself to focus on stupid shit.  Stupid shit like feelings of inadequacy because my dress didn’t turn out like I had imagined because my hair hadn’t turned out like I imagined, because I don’t walk like I think I should walk, or because my stomach was protruding. You see inside, I’m still just an insecure little girl wanting to fit in and be best that I can be. 

My first lady said in Sunday school yesterday that when we think of leprosy we usually think about the disease in the Bible, people with open sores and living in isolation because they are contagious. She talked about the idea that if you think of leprosy in a spiritual way then you will understand that anyone can have it. In a spiritual sense, leprosy is anything that is toxic that overtakes your life and isolates you. We all have it in some way. My leprosy is judging myself too harshly especially in comparison to other people. It almost ruined my day. Almost

So right in the middle the Soror Mackenzie again telling the crowd to “slay in our lanes”, I decided to focus on why I was in the room and instead focusing on what I thought I was or wasn’t. I was there because in the 8th grade I decided I wanted to be a member of a group of women who were powerful, women who changed the world. Women like Barbara Jordan, Lena Horne, and Shirley Chisholm. I was in the room because when I got to the campus of UTA I saw a chapter of young ladies who were involved in the community and who were leaders on campus. Like we used to say back in the day, “The Deltas ran the yard.” I was there because when I decided to apply, my friend was a regional officer and she wrote my letter of recommendation at the last minute because the person who said she would write my letter originally wouldn’t even answer the phone. I was there because on April 15, 1994, I crossed burning sands with 11 other women who were excited and eager to no longer be pyramids but full-fledged Deltas. We didn’t have to practice throwing up the pyramid in the room or softly saying oo-oop so no one else could hear it. We could say it out loud! We could work and serve our community with other powerful black women. I was there because I wanted and I was a change agent.

Luckily, I spent about three years in therapy, learning to recognize negative self-talk. Luckily, I have developed a few strategies to help me focus and redirect such toxic thinking. ANNDD, I know Jesus and I could hear Him speak to me and say, “You are my child so you are worthy and you are beautiful. Then I heard my granny call down from Heaven to say, “Look, little girl! Ain’t nobody thinking about that shit but you!” 

I was in the room because of the sisterhood! We have been through so much together! Graduations, babies, marriages, divorces, health problems, money problems, and career changes. Chapter meetings, state meetings, regional conferences, and national conventions. Lord have mercy, even lemon squeezes (Deltas knew about Lemonade well before Beyoncé) because our is grand but so are our fights. You name it, we’ve been through it! It has been a journey.

When people get married they say they do life together. I “do life” with my sorors. My friends. Don’t get me wrong, I have three blood sisters that I adore.  No one can take their place. But you know what? When God gave me my sorors, he showed me “sisterhood amplified.” My sorors are there right along with my sisters to support me on this journey, and I would change it! 

My mind was playing tricks on me. It was lying to me. But being with my sorors changed the game. We shut it down!!! We partied, laughed, danced, and celebrated my line sister who is aging not just gracefully but phenomenally! She is sweet, supportive, smart, and successful! My other line sisters and sorors too! We held the 25-year debate of who was the meanest, Kiphani or Misty (I promise you, we will have this debate at our 50th. SMH). It was a day that I needed. Joy…I just had to take the focus off myself and enjoy the moment, enjoy my friends.

I think it is called imposter syndrome, and I write this because there are women that feel the same way. We talk ourselves out of experiencing and feeling joy. We smile, but inside the struggle is real. If you feel this way at times remember, there is more about you to celebrate than to criticize. Know that you are not alone. Fight those feelings of inadequacy and flip the script in your head. Take the focus off yourself, embrace your sisterhood, celebrate life, and live in the moment with your friends and family. Fight it, Sis. I promise you, it is worth it! I am so glad I did. One of the BEST DAYS EVER!

P.S. Kiphani and Misty, it’s a tie. You are both nice-nasty! 🥰🤣