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#BringBackOurGirls

Trying to save these girls from NIGERIA, but what about the ones back home? Ted Bundy slid knives into his aunt’s bed, and they left him alone. This new guy killed women cause he couldn’t get none, and they listened to his words like lyrics to a song. Like round and round she go, and these hoes aint loyal. Forgive me if I’m on my own, if I seem weird or a little bit snobby because I think I was made for more: to love Him and praise Him, and one day raise him, the son that He leaves at my door. See I’m not saying we shouldn’t save them, but let’s speak the truth. We’re killing the darlings at our feet. Watching them curse, and abuse, be tormented and misused, all while shaking their bones to be seen. See there’s a past, and a present, and maybe even a future, so please go live your lives. But remember that one day all these paths will meet to give an account of who you are deep inside. So when you’re done over there, rescuing and saving those girls tragically taken from their homes, come back over here and maybe together we can show these young girls their not alone. That they’re not queens yet, but they’re certainly not vendors: selling their mind and body to the streets. Continuing an endless cycle, and it’s gone viral, cause it’s spreading to the churches and even P.E. So let’s raise them up, and dust them off, because— yes— they’ve been stolen too; from our hearts and homes; and they didn’t leave alone, but once they’re gone they can’t be brought back to you

 

 

 

 

 

 
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Posted by on November 13, 2014 in Be Pensive

 

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1 out of 100

1 out of 100

 

I’m a WOMAN! It’s something I’ve been waiting for since I was 15– you know that stage were you only have 3 years until you’re “grown”, you know everything, and bugs still make you squeal. Yep. I’d been waiting for it, and now that I’m turning 21 I’m ready to hit the pause button and embrace womanhood. Now with great titles come great responsibility, and I’ve taken them on willingly.

As a woman I have the right to pay bills, vote, be equally employed, laugh, shed tears, go crazy, go to war, stay at home, raise a family, get a degree, argue, and eat chocolate– my favorite. This new age of adulthood comes with a lot of rights, including the one to love myself and sometimes not even want to look at myself, and as a woman I’m accepting that more with each fleeting day.  And I find that as I accept I won’t always like what reflects in the mirror, my days get easier and my love grows stronger.

The CIA says there’s about 107 men to every 100 women. That means that seven lucky men are going to have to make that sacrifice and take on an extra wife– and I think my boyfriend got the luck of the draw. (Now I’m neither for or against polygamy… my stance is whatever makes you happy. Just don’t ask me to share. So I’m not saying he has a second girlfriend, but with my new found right he may feel like he does. )

From day to day I wake up thinking about who I want to be.  For as many faces and colors are in that photo, I wake up in the mood of each one. Some days I’m silly, others I’m philosophical. Some days I’m Aubrey, and others I’m Pink. (My boyfriend’s right is to figure out which I am from second to hour and act accordingly.)  I use to think there was a problem with my flip  in characters; like by some divine law I was restricted to one personality for the rest of my life– and some of that may have been because of the all the movies I watch. Aside from Miss Congeniality not many movies/shows I grew up with portrayed that a girl could be glamorous and adventurous. So when I found myself changing out of jeans and a tee with hopes of embracing the mascara and sandals the next day, I thought I just didn’t know who I was.

Now six years later… I see that I always have, and that a lot of people like it. Gone are the days where I look to my glamour girls and sigh because their makeup is intrusive and I’m not even sure what it’s called. Gone are the days where the dawn of a new school year brings about the decision to either be girly or athletic. I’m going to be comfortable! And that’s the only decision that truly matters. As long as you’re comfortable in what you wear, look presentable, and use all hygienic measures you’re good to go.

I can’t pinpoint when I made this realization. I know being in a sorority where there are a variety of girly athletes and glamour girls has helped, but most of it I would say was accepting and maturing. Accepting that maybe  Whitney was on to something when she sang “I’m Every Woman”, and maturing into my own skin without over comparing myself to my peers. My mom tells everyone I love wearing pants– but that doesn’t mean I can’t own a couple hundred dresses.

Caitlin Moran said it best:

“When a woman says, ‘I have nothing to wear!’, what she really means is, ‘There’s nothing here for who I’m supposed to be today.”

 

 

 
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Posted by on July 28, 2014 in Be Yourself

 

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She’s growing up

“Hannah your mom brought you that?”

“No. I brought it.”

“Hannah you brought that with your money?”

“Yes.”

“You have a job?”

“Yes.”

Her name is Alexia, and I’ve known her for seven years. When we met she was about four. She was smart and she was driven. She was driven to be like myself and every other girl older than her. So every time I came to church with something new she came with the same questions.  (And she still does.)

Now she’s using lip gloss and body spray, and she’s learned to roll her eyes.  (Wonderful.) She’s growing up into beautiful young lady, but she has some challenges to face and that’s where I come in.  Just the other day I noticed Alexia getting excited because her dress is getting shorter. My first reaction was anger. (She’s too young to want to show off the little goods she does have. I’m still trying to figure out how to handle mine, and she’s ready to flaunt hers? No, just no.) But then I remembered how I felt at her age when my favorite skirt started getting shorter. I was excited too, and that’s when I realized that she wasn’t wrong for feeling that way. We were wrong for teaching it to her.

Short dresses and tight clothes seem to be the staple item in women clothing.  So Alexia’s first sign that she’s growing up is her short dress. She isn’t excited cause she wants to show off anything. She’s excited because she’s growing up. She realizes that she’s not a little girl anymore and, though that may bother her at times, it’s exciting.  So instead of getting mad at her, I sit her down and tell her that there’s more to growing up than getting attention and showing body parts. (I, of course, give her the rated G version of the convo.) I make sure she know it’s her brains that make her a young lady and not how she looks or what she wears.  I tell her that it’s how she carries herself that makes her beautiful, but she needs more. So I show her in the way I live. (After all she does look up to me, so she’s watching what I do. ) I hold off on a boyfriend because I want her to know that a man doesn’t make you a woman, but an education does. She knows I have guy friends, but she also knows that I’m involved back at my college, and I study hard.  I avoid dressing too provocative because I want her to know that showing skin doesn’t make you a woman. (Sometimes I’ll even wear a floral pattern or a graphic tee, so she understands that we’re not so different after all.)

Watching her grow, I’ve noticed that sometimes being upset and disappointed doesn’t do anything but break her spirit. My grandpa always said that “Those that know better do better.” (I think he was on to something.) Therefore, I can’t be mad with the way she acts sometimes because she doesn’t know any better. It’s my job– as the big sister because she refuses to call me anything else– to teach her better. She listens too. Sure I may have to remind her, but she gets what I’m saying. She’s growing up, but she’ll always be my princess. However now I’m not just her playmate, but also a confidante and an advisor. She’ll always be my princess, but she’s becoming a queen– and it’s my job to help her get her crown.

 
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Posted by on March 4, 2014 in Be Encouraged

 

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