Sandra Does TED Talks

Dreams. When we’re kids, adults love to ask us what we want to be. There are no limitations. We don’t think about money. Or what’s possible. We just blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.

Anything is possible.

When I was a kid, I thought I was going to save the world through words. I don’t know if I thought I was going to negotiate a peace treaty, but I knew I loved to write more than anything else in the world. It was going to be my ticket to something better for my mom and for me.

I’m going to tell you a secret. When I was a kid, we didn’t have much, but I collected postcards and magazine articles. I would hang them on my wall. All those little holes drove my mom crazy. They reminded of all the places I would go and all the people whose stories I would tell. So many people are invisible, and I wanted to bring them to life -- give them a voice.

I thought that was my purpose.

Like each and every one of us, I got older and started thinking about limitations. What was impossible.

How can I pay for it?

How will I earn a living?

How do I get my shot?

And that big dream that I had started getting smaller and smaller. And those adults who asked what I wanted to be and smiled when I told them, encouraged me to be more realistic.

 

You can’t do that.

That’s not a real job. Who’s going to pay for it?

You need to look for something more stable.

When you hear something over and over again, it takes a toll. It chips away at the fearlessness of the dreamer. The dream becomes a distant memory.

So you think about what you can’t do, instead of what you can.

You think about the lack of money.

You explore other options that will offer stability.

Your choices become the product of the limited vision of others. It may be fine for awhile but there will come a day, there always comes a day when you have to wonder how different life would have been if only...

You still believed in dreams.

You were braver.

You believed in yourself, stuck to your guns.

Sometimes, it all works out fine and the path in life may not have been the one you dreamed, but the journey is still beautiful. Sometimes, you’re able to snap out of it and recalibrate the direction of your life. Other times and this is the saddest of all, your life becomes an exercise in existing.

I saw myself slipping down that hole at a job that was just paying the bills. I didn’t want to become one of those people so, I made a decision.

All I needed was a shot. A foot in the door.

So here’s the secret: dreams don’t always come true at once. It may come in stages. It may come in the form that looks far from where you want to be but is creative enough to work.

My opportunity came in the form of fan fiction. The words of encouragement were from anonymous readers. Who knew they would reignite a spark that was dimming?

So, my friends, think about the dreams you had when you were a kid. And look at where you are now. Is this where you want to be? Is this the life you want?

 

Sandra's Dilemma

I’ve had so many crossroads in my life, but the first in my adult life was when I was 22.

I’d just graduated with my shiny new degree and nobody could tell me anything.

Doors were going to blow wide open for me to strut through. Employers were going to fall all over themselves to pay me. I was going to do the whole “day job” thing from 9-5 and write the next great American novel by night.

My idea of “adulting” was voting, drinking wine by the gallon and living it up. The ladies on “Sex in the City” barely worked. I thought that was my future.

 

I wasn’t prepared for the truth that awaited me. 

At 23, I had it all figured out. I could see myself standing onstage while someone presented me with a prestigious award. My hair would be in some sort of fancy ‘do, doing what it does. I’d wear a siren red or sexy black dress that everyone would be talking about and my makeup, without a doubt, would be on point. But the best thing about it would be my real smile.

I could see myself, vividly, living the dream.

Knowing my destination, or maybe it was even my destiny, I was hopeful and optimistic when I went back to my Harlem. I still remembered the grittiness, the sirens, the sense that there was no escape. But I also remembered the neighborhood poet, the untapped talent, the people of faith who took care of each other. Harlem was its people and I’d missed them.

When I left the first time, I was “Sandy,” the nerdy girl with the baby fat, bad attitude and one friend who’d put up with me. When I returned, I was “Sandra” coming back home with my shiny new degree, ready to conquer the world.  

I had this walk back then, which I inherited from my mother. My posture was perfect and I would sort of glide across a room all strong and confident. I was weightless and couldn't nobody tell me nothing; I was finally grown.

To me grown was staying up as late as I wanted, eating junk food, legally drinking and doing me, whatever that meant.

Read more of Sandra's adventures here

They Lied, I'm More Than Enough by Crissi Ponder

I’ve been told that I’m not enough.

My frame is too curvy. My hair is too kinky. My teeth should be straighter. My smile should be bigger.

My stomach should be flatter. My waist should be nonexistent. My breasts should grow a cup size or two.

I should fit the mold for what society deems attractive, desirable and palatable. 

I’ve been told that the way I already show up in the world is not enough.

I have to work 10 times as hard as my Caucasian counterparts to get a fraction of what they have. There isn’t a brown-colored version of white mediocrity.

Then I have to work 10 times harder to keep the crumbs I’m able to grab. The odds are often unfavorable but I’m told to suck it up, because that’s the way things are.

I can never be average. It’s overwhelming when you’re obliged to be exceptional in all that you do. I can’t screw up. I can’t make a misstep.

I can’t be too assertive or I’ll come off as intimidating. I have to paint on my poker face for each daily dose of microaggressions I’m forced to swallow.

I must constantly be grateful for what’s spitefully thrown my way. I’m not supposed to want more for myself. I’m not supposed to assign myself a set of standards to cling to, neither professionally nor personally.

And speaking of personally, I’m frequently told to play small in order to be “wifey material.” I can’t expect too much from my partner. I can’t demand to be treated and loved a certain way or I’ll be labeled “high maintenance.” I’m not supposed to love myself enough to know I deserve the best.

I have to be careful not to intimidate men so they won’t fold under pressure and flee. I have to personify tired gender stereotypes to make them comfortable, which includes walking on eggshells to protect their fragile egos. I can’t just be.

I have to be mild-mannered and meek. I shouldn’t have a voice that calls bullshit on the unjust things I experience. I’m meant to be a silent spectator to the perpetual stripping and dissecting and appropriating of my black womanhood.

But I won’t.

I won’t let the countless lies I’m told about who I’m supposed to be, continue to shape who I am.

I can’t look for validation from a world that rejects me but capitalizes on my essence. I won’t further internalize where I’m told I fall short or fail to measure up.

I will revel in the beauty, boldness and brilliance wrapped up in my existence as a black woman.

I am more than enough.

Twitter: @CrissiUntangled

http://crissiuntangled.com

Letter to Her Unborn Child

March 8, 1980

To My Unborn Child:

The doctor just told me you’re a girl but she didn’t tell me nothing I didn’t already know.

You are gonna be somebody. I’m not giving you a choice.

I’m not gonna pretend that it’s gonna be easy for you ‘cause it’s not. It’s gonna be damn hard, but we already know about our spirit. Nothing’s gonna tear us down.

You’re gonna to have the life I didn’t. You’re gonna go to the better schools because that’s what you’re meant to do. You’re not going to fuck it up like me. We’re going to do whatever we have to do to make sure you make it. Knowledge is power.
I’m gonna read to you every night. I’m gonna buy you a good set of encyclopedias. You’re gonna be cultured.

 

Whatever you want to do, you’re gonna at least have a chance. What you’re not gonna do is fail. I need somebody to take care of me when I get more life experience -- old ain’t in my vocabulary.

Hopefully, we’ll survive Reagan and get a Democrat. You won’t understand politics until you’re older, but just so you know, you’re a Democrat. People will tell you Republicans set the slaves free, but that’s not the same party running around today.

 

I want you to know, really know, there is nothing you can’t do. No matter what people tell you. You really can be anything. I’m telling you now and I’m gonna keep telling you until you believe it.

Baby girl, I can’t wait to tell you about the world. We’re going to have fun! I know it.

Until the next time.

 

I love you.


Mom

Elite Must Date An Elite by Naomi K. Bonman

Since being invited to write on the Lies We Are Told, I have been pondering for about a good week and half of what lie I have heard coming up as a Black woman. The one that popped into mind was that as an educated and successful Black woman with many accomplishments and even more to yet be fulfilled, most in our circle except us to date a man that is also very well educated, has just as many degrees, and just as many accomplishments.

 

If we come up with the man from the streets, but that has his stuff together, they don’t want us with him because he is a “thug,” the “bad boy.” But men from the streets can just be just as educated, yet they probably didn’t go to a four-year university, and probably only taken a few classes at the local community college or graduated from a 1-2 year program at a Trade School with his Associates Degree, but who can say that he isn’t just as educated and will treat his woman with the respect she deserves. At the end of the day, it is how a woman is treated and the happiness that she feels when she is with that man.

 

We can choose to have a Hill Harper, an elite and handsome Harvard graduate who is scared of commitment, or we can have a Tyrese, the pretty boy from Watts who just married his soul mate and isn’t afraid of commitment. Which one do you choose ladies? Let’s stop the lie of the status quo when it comes to who we must date based on what we have accomplished and what we have, and that doesn’t mean you have to settle either.