Happy Friday to you! I am sending good vibes out with today’s post. I really feel like 2016 is stirring up some things for us. There seems to be a collective consciousness that is awakening. I think that’s one of the reasons we’re seeing these themes of unrest and disruption in our world events. Whenever a change is imminent, we mere mortals tend to hold on for dear life to what we have known. There is some fluidity, also known as detachment, that Life needs from us in order for us to get to that “more,” “better,” “different” that we all imagine and yearn for. We can do it. We just have to be willing to detach (there goes that word again!), or let go of the reigns in order to get it. Hope you have a magical weekend!
Salutations! Naw, that doesn’t sound happy enough. Hey! I’m sending all my good vibes your way because I appreciate you so much for joining me here on this space. Today is good. It’s cold in Chicago, but the sun is out. So I’m taking my silver lining. Today’s video was inspired by a conversation I was having with one of my besties. She and I are so in sync we actually activate one another. We’re like the Wonder Twins . . . Activate! So whenever I’m thinking about something, it tends to come up in our conversations and I take that as confirmation that I’m on the right track. We were talking about life and relationships and how we mere mortals have such difficulty with the endings of a relationship. We all know they have a beginning, a middle, and an end. But something about that end gets to us. We just don’t like it. But the reality is, every relationship we create in our lives won’t be one that we ride all the way to our physical death. And I’m not speaking of merely romantic relationships. What is it about the end of things that make us so uncomfortable? And we needn’t fret. No we need not. Because the end usually signifies the beginning of something else. Hmmm . . . let’s ponder that for a minute, shall we?
People love to ask me what it was like growing up with Bernie Mac as my father. I still don’t really know how to answer that question. It’s all that I know. He was Daddy. And while his story seems quite extraordinary to some, life with him seemed quite ordinary to me. I will say that it wasn’t anywhere near as hilarious as others seem to think it was. Don’t get me wrong. We laughed a lot. I mean, he was just a naturally funny guy and he had a great sense of humor. He passed it along. However, he took his responsibility as a father very seriously. And as his daughter, I can tell you that fatherhood, as far as he was concerned, was no laughing matter.
I tell people often that my father and I were soul mates. I know that the popular idea of soul mates lies in the romantic. However, I’ve always believed that a soul mate is that person whose connection with you is unparalleled. Your soul mate is the person (or persons) who are there to reflect you in your truest essence. They challenge you in the most life changing ways. That was my father for me, and I him. We were mirror images of one another. While I wouldn’t admit it when he was alive, I proudly say today that we knew and understood one another better than anyone. There were things we just “got” about one another. The flip side to that is that we also had the super power of being able to drive the other crazy.
People ask, “What do you miss most about your dad?” It makes me laugh now, but the truth is, I miss the way he got on my nerves. And he did get on my nerves. About 90% of the 100 billion estimated ones I have in my human body! Hearing that may sound odd to you, but it’s a comforting truth for me. Oddly enough, it’s not the tender moments I miss most. I miss his idiosynchrasies, his bad habits. I miss the little picadillos that made him Daddy.
I found one of my old journals that I kept as a child. I had to have been about 10 or 11 years old when I wrote in the journal. Almost every entry is about how much he got on my nerves and how I will never, ever, ever be like him. Now, those who know me well can appreciate the humor of this. I am like my father. Always have been. In fact, I think I was the last person in my life to recognize it! I’ve known one of my best friend since we were 4 years old. We’ve never had an argument. We were about 14 the one time we came close to blows, and it was because she told me that I was like my father.
This is yet another thing I wouldn’t admit because a large part of me felt like he was larger than life. My dad was a superhero in my eyes. He was able to do the impossible. Hey, he took us from true rags to riches, so why wouldn’t I believe that? I never believed I had that ability. But, I also wouldn’t let him know that. No, I would say the opposite of whatever he said. If he said “Up,” I went down. If he said, “It’s going to rain,” I said “I see nothing but sunshine.” He was intuitive and very strong with his intuition. So he was right a lot. I mean a lot, a lot. He could tell you what you would do before you even thought about the act. And I’m not ashamed to tell you that I just got tired of him being right all the time. So yep, I was contrary on purpose just to prove him wrong. You probably don’t need me to tell you that it didn’t work out very well for me.
Again, these are things that I laugh about now. But the truth is, as much as I resisted my true self (which is so much like my dad), I’m appreciative of it now. I like that we are so much alike. I think my father was a wonderful human being and I’m proud to say that I know him. So here’s a brief list of some of the traits that we have in common.
We’re both extremely stubborn. I mean for real, for real. We will hold our stance forever. You’ll get tired before we do.
We’re both humanitarians and care takers. We’re the one in our circle who takes care of everyone. The unfortunate thing is that we both do so to the detriment of our own selves because we get so busy taking care of everyone else that we forget to take care of ourselves.
We both have a very, ahem . . . colorful . . . vocabulary. Now this one is really funny to me because I was timid about cursing until he died. Once he did, it was as if a part of him fused into my soul and brought his vocabulary stash with it!
We’re both natural leaders. We’re not interested in following a crowd. In fact, we’re more inclined to intentionally go in the opposite direction of everyone else.
We’re both very sensitive. This may shock some, but it is indeed true that the MacMan was very sensitive. He cared a lot about what others thought of him. He just had a great poker face to throw you off the scent of his sensitivity. I, on the other hand, never developed the poker face. Yet, I am just as sensitive–if not even more. Now, we’ll still go on to do whatever we want and leave you feeling like we don’t care, but we do.
I miss my dad. I miss him every single moment of every day. For so long I expected this almost magic day to arrive where I would be over his passing. I finally realized that there is no such day. You never get over it. You just get through it. I can honestly say that I’m through the grief, but I still miss him. I like thinking of him fondly. And I don’t wish to martyr him. Yes he was a great man. But he was also flawed. But the beautiful thing about maturity is that you learn to appreciate the people in your life for who they are instead of who you wish they were. And I appreciate my dad so much for who he is and was. It is said that children go through three stages when it comes to their view of their parents. They begin by idolizing their parents. I am no exception. I idolized my dad. I was in love with him. I idolized him so much that I pitied any man who wasn’t like him. I actually thought that any man who didn’t physically resemble him had some type of deformity. My grandfather’s and my father’s friends were the only exceptions.
It’s said after idolization, children then judge their parents. I can admit that I did judge my father. I judged him for things he did and things he didn’t do. For a long time I felt that he was too hard on me. I felt that he didn’t give me everything I needed from him. It would take me maturing and learning to see him as a man, apart from being just my dad to understand that he did the best he could. He did his best to instill in me the values he believed would help me succeed in life. He didn’t know how to be soft. He only knew how to be hard–even his soft was hard. But it was well intentioned. It was covered with love. And I appreciate that.
People ask me am I proud of my dad. I understand that for many who ask, their question is rooted in his celebrity. The truth is yes, I am quite proud of my dad. But not necessarily because of his fame. I’m proud that my father, without having his father in his life, chose to honor his actions and marry my pregnant mother at the tender age of 19. I’m proud that he remained in our home, leading us as best as he could. I’m proud that he had the courage to dare to dream (a huge dream). But more than just dream, he took the steps to make his dream come true–in spite of the many naysayers. I’m proud that at the height of his celebrity, he held fast to his values and never allowed anyone or anything to deter him from that path. I’m proud that while he may not have been able to soften up for me, he was able to give me everything he had. So I guess that means I’m in the final stage, which is acceptance. I’m proud to say he didn’t have to die for me to reach that stage. I was there long before.
I owe you an apology. Yes, you. You who are reading this. Whether you’re new to the blog, or you’ve periodically perused my musings, or you’re a loyal follower; I am woman enough to admit that I owe you an apology. You see, I’ve failed myself, and in doing so, I’ve failed you. I’m all about authenticity and integrity, yet I wasn’t actually practicing that when it came to today’s video. I’m about a month late posting a Friday video. I actually recorded this video last month. But in the spirit of honesty, I will admit to you that last month was a rough month for me. As Sofia told Miss Celie, “I’s feeling mighty bad.” Unfortunately, I fell into one of my terrible habits of retreating. Recording this video, which is all about honoring how we feel, triggered so many things for me and I retreated. I couldn’t bring myself to post this. It was too much for me. It was so much that I broke down crying after the recording. If you know me well, you can probably see it in my eyes as I’m talking. (That’s why there’s so much eye rolling. I’m trying to suppress the tears). Again, this goes totally against what I intended and what I’m about. How much more authentic would this have been if I’d simply shared it a month ago when I recorded it? How much could I have released then had I simply cried and shared? We may never know. But upon watching this video, I realized that I needed this. And if I needed this, someone else needs this. I don’t say this to be self-aggrandizing. I say this to be fully transparent and committed to the mission of sharing myself to help others. My apologies for forgetting that. My apologies for failing to honor myself while I tell you to honor yourself. I won’t let that happen again. Many thanks, and much love.
Je’Niece
Aahh . . . Love. Love of family, friends, and people in general. It’s a beautiful thing. It feels good to love on people and have them love on you. And when you love people, you care about what happens to them. You care about the things they do. It’s the benevolent thing to do. And it’s only right. Right? Well . . . yes, and no. It’s great to care about our loved ones. But far too often, we fall into the trap of thinking that overstepping our boundaries and inserting ourselves into the business affairs of our loved ones displays love and concern. And like Dwayne and Walter proclaimed on “A Campfire Story” episode of A Different World, “That’s when the fight broke out!” Inserting ourselves where we don’t belong into the lives of our loved ones is a surefire way to create division in our relationships. But we feel justified to do so. After all, we have valid opinions. We can see what they cannot. So it’s our duty to let them know exactly what we think about what they’re doing, what they need to do, and what they should do in the future. And to add insult to injury, we’re actually insulted when our benevolent advice is not met with gratitude. However well intentioned we may be, we can be quite guilty of crossing lines when we do this. Actually, our opinions are not “good” or “bad.” We may even have some sound advice. Hell, we may actually *gasp* be right. Now, I’m not speaking of when those we love are causing themselves great harm (say for example, in a case of a severely depressed person, or an addiction). But in the case of every day living, sometimes we get so busy living our loved ones lives that we forget to live our own. And it’s not as if we haven’t been warned about doing this. Jesus told us to remove the beam from our own eye before trying to remove the plank from our neighbors. New school tells us to stay in our lane. Old folks simply told us to mind our own business. Let me tell you how I learned to do just that.
I had an excellent teacher in learning this lesson. Who was my teacher, you ask? It was none other than my mother. And she honestly had no idea she even taught me. But she did. Allow me to paint the story for you. It was 2009, about eight months after my dad passed away. My mom had decided that she was ready to date. I, on the other hand, didn’t agree. Now let’s look at what I said. I didn’t agree with her choice. Just who did I think I was? Well, at the time I thought I was a supportive and loving daughter who cared about my mom and only wanted the best for her. I thought it was a bit much to expect that a woman who’d lost her husband of 30 years (the man she’d been with from 16 years of age to 50) was ready to go out and date. I thought it was even more than a bit much when considering that said woman hadn’t been on a first date since 1976. I thought it was a bit much to expect that she’d be wholly healed and done with her grief in a way that would allow her to forge a new relationship. And I thought the loving thing to do was to simply tell her so. And I didn’t think I said it an overbearing way. I thought I said it in a “Mom I love you and I only want the best for you” kind of way. But the reality was that she didn’t ask me. To be frank, no one asked me. I took it upon myself to decide that I needed to intervene on her behalf. And I thought I was right. Man, if you’d seen some of these guys! She had no business dating any of them. That’s what I told myself. And for me, it wasn’t so much that I felt that none of them could hold a candle to my dad. It was that I instinctively felt that none of them were interested in my mother as a woman. I felt that they were all just happy to say they were dating “Bernie Mac’s wife.” I knew that feeling all too well. After all, I knew how to navigate those murky waters. I knew what it felt like to have the task of making friends and date all while being “Bernie Mac’s daughter.” So I was helping my mother avoid some of the pitfalls I’d found myself in. Or so I thought.
Again, I had benevolent intentions. The execution though? Not so much. I wasn’t actually being benevolent. I was actually being quite dismissive of my mother and her right to choose. She had a right to live her life the way she felt. She had every right to grieve in the way she needed. She had a right to go out with anyone she wanted. She was 50 years old for goodness’ sake! She wasn’t a child who needed me to hold her hand. All she needed was support. Unfortunately, I didn’t realize that support was enough action. I didn’t realize that support didn’t require me to insert myself in her life. Now, I’d love to tell you that I made these realizations shortly after I said something, but I cannot. No, I rode the short bus on this lesson. It took me quite a while to get to the memo. What pushed me to finally get it, you ask? It took me feeling as if my life had completely fallen apart and dissecting everything about it to realize that everything I was upset over had NOTHING to do with me! It was several months later at this point. I’d deteriorated mentally, physically, and emotionally. My entire body was broken out in a horrid rash. I thought it was simply a bad case of my eczema until I went to the dermatologist and learned that it was another skin condition caused by stress. I couldn’t sleep. I was averaging about 2-3 hours of sleep, and I wasn’t eating. I couldn’t. I couldn’t keep anything down. I went to my counselor and told her what was going on and she asked me a very important question. She simply asked, “What does any of this have to do with you?” *Gasp* How could she dare ask me that? Couldn’t she see that it had everything to do with me? “She’s my mother!” I answered incredulously. She looked at me and said, “Yes, we know that. And she’s your mother whether she’s married to your dad, dating a new guy, or perpetually single. This is her life. So what does her dating have to do with you?” I opened my mouth to answer, but I had nothing. So I closed my mouth and just sat there. She was correct. The truth was that it didn’t have anything to do with me. But I think I made it about me because that was safer and easier than dealing with my own life. The truth was that I wasn’t doing so well with my dad’s passing. I was devastated and I didn’t know I was devastated. I knew I was out of it. But I didn’t have a name for it. I just knew that I felt low and wanted to feel better. To top it off, my divorce was finalized three months after my dad passed. And while I felt I did the right thing by divorcing my ex husband, I still felt a sense of sadness. I still needed to grieve. I needed to grieve not so much what was, but the release of all the unfulfilled hope of what could have been. As if that wasn’t enough, my relationship with my mom had changed. A distance grew between us–one that wasn’t related to my insertion in her business. I honestly think maybe I inserted myself as a means to bridge the gap. Whatever my reasons, it didn’t change the fact that I was so busy minding my mother’s business that I was failing myself miserably.
So then judgment kicked in. I was upset with myself because I should have known better. After all, how many fights had I participated in with my father because he didn’t allow me the freedom to choose–even when I was grown and out of the house. I would often tell him that while I understood his intentions; he still needed to back off. Of course, he wouldn’t. Now years later, he was gone and I was finding myself committing his cardinal sins! But that was judgment. And judgment kept me stuck. I couldn’t get past it. After all, this was different and I was nothing like him because I was right and he wasn’t. But it didn’t matter how I tried to spin it because the more I spun, the more I realized that I was acting and sounding just like my dad. AAaaaaahhhh!
And so, upon realizing that I was acting like my father and that I was running away from my own trouble–also the fact that I was extremely dry and itchy and the steroid cream the dermatologist prescribed was NOT cutting it–prompted me to get out of my mother’s lap in her driver’s seat, in her car, in her lane, on her highway, on her route, in her city, on the way to her destination. Instead, I opened the driver’s side door of my own car, sat behind the wheel, and drove off at a very cautiously slow 5 mph. Whew! I was scared out of my mind, but I kept driving. Slowly but surely, my scenery changed because I was on my own route–one that had nothing to do with my mom’s. And that’s how I learned to mind my own business.
While I will offer my opinion to my loved ones when asked, I won’t insert myself in their lives. I only speak when prompted. Furthermore, I’m done once I’ve said my peace. I don’t entangle myself in their affairs. Yay for healthy boundaries! It took some practice, but now it’s almost effortless, and I think my relationships are the better for it.
I don’t watch the news, so I’m usually late when it comes to events. You can imagine my surprise yesterday upon seeing a picture on my Facebook timeline highlighting an event from November 2015. A young woman in Georgia took her college exam while she was in labor. She has since been lauded as strong, determined, having her priorities in order, and amazing for doing so. This is not the first time a woman has done this. Back in 2011, an Illinois woman took her bar exam while in active labor. This woman was also lauded with compliments for her extraordinary heroism as she barreled through her exam.
I understand that we are in a culture which supports and idolizes action. We are all about doing and achieving. And when you’re done with that, do and achieve more. That picture and those who commented on how wonderful it was only reinforced that notion. And while I believe these women–and women in particular, for that matter-are extraordinary, I can’t help but to feel a bit sad about how much that mentality has affected us. Most women who have given birth can tell you what an exhaustive process labor can be. And in the midst of this, these women felt that they really had no choice but to “woman up” and take an exam instead of focusing on the task at hand–a mighty large task if you ask me.
Now I know there are some who will say “But what’s wrong with what they did?” To you I will say, there’s nothing wrong. I’m not speaking from a place of judgment. I do applaud these women for doing what they felt they needed. I think women are incredibly resilient. And while extreme, these two ladies, and any other ladies who’ve done similar things, illustrate this point. But reading their stories and all the comments of those who applauded them raised some questions for me. Tyler Collins, the 21 year-old Georgia mom who took her psychology exam while in labor said, “I just didn’t want to make an excuse for not taking it, but I also wanted to keep my GPA up.” I’m amazed by her strength. But I’m also amazed that she would have considered giving birth an “excuse” as to why she couldn’t take her exam. We’re not talking about a slight sniffle of the nose here. No, we’re talking about birthing a child! How is that an excuse? I just wonder how long we woman shall rumble and roar just to say we did? Furthermore, I wonder why we even feel the need to?
Again, there is no judgment. I couldn’t judge if I wanted to since I still struggle to retire the invisible, yet still seen S on my chest and cape that flows from my neck. I just am saddened that we as women still fall into the trap of thinking we have to do, get, labor (figuratively and literally), and toil in order to be worthy and strong. We still don’t quite understand that strength is a quiet trait. It doesn’t make a grand entrance. It merely shows up when needed, does what needs to be done, and exits stage left when it’s done. And sometimes strength realizes that rest or seeming inactivity is the thing that is needed. We forget that sometimes, the seemingly “weak” thing is the strongest thing to do. We are after all, feminine beings. And feminine strength doesn’t look like masculine strength; nor does it need to. What’s more, Collins scored a 76 on her exam and admitted she wasn’t pleased with the score, prompting her to email her professor to see if she could retake the exam. Thankfully, her picture and story went viral, so it prompted her teacher to give her extra credit, which bumped her grade from a C to a B. But I couldn’t help but wonder, if she’d simply focused on her labor–you know prioritize–and taken the test at a later time, would she have received a score more to her liking. But that’s the mentality that we live with. We must do it and we must do it NOW! There is no later. If you wait, you won’t get another opportunity. And often times we don’t see how we cause our own suffering with that mentality.
I will repeat, these women were in labor! I understand the gravity of that can be forgotten in today’s world; since women have been doing it since the dawn of time. I get that how in the midst of all the medical, technological, and societal strides the human race has made, childbirth can seem so rudimentary. Yet, it isn’t at all. It’s heavy stuff, Man! I also get that when we look at some of the things our ancestors faced, we feel like we’re chumps in the face of their adversity. And why shouldn’t we? When you compare what they’ve gone through to our stuff one can’t help but arise at the conclusion that we have it made. I’ve heard the stories of how our ancestors birthed babies in the middle of the cotton field, wrapped the baby and strapped them to their back, and then proceeded to continue picking cotton. Yep, I’ve heard the stories. I was saddened by them then, just as I’m saddened now. And it’s because in spite of the advances, we still haven’t realized some things.
There has been and still is this idea that in order for a woman to succeed, she must do so with masculine energy. She must act. If she isn’t acting, she’s not achieving. Now admittedly, women have made great strides in their careers. Yet those strides have begged the question, at what cost? The notion that women need to be like men in order to be strong is erroneous. We were created different for a reason. A woman can be strong in her feminine without embodying the masculine. We can prioritize, possesses determination, and be amazing all without putting ourselves last. It’s not a badge of honor to deplete ourselves in our quest to get things done. Yet, that’s the model so many of us have chosen to emulate. My wish is that every woman knows how splendid, beautiful, and yes, strong, she is. But we can’t realize that trying to reach it with a masculine model in mind.
I just wonder that with all that women do, why we feel it’s not enough? I wonder how long we will have to be the Strong (and often times Black) woman giving and doing with our might before we whittle away at everything we’ve got. Why is it that we feel like carrying, laboring, birthing, and raising our children is nothing? Why do you we feel like we haven’t done enough? Why do we feel like we have to be “on” constantly, giving of ourselves until we’re depleted, to prove how we good we are? Why are we constantly applauding women for these acts of self-neglect? Yes, I said self-neglect, because that’s what it is. We give and give up so much from our cups that many of us have been holding empty cups for years–scraping the residue from the bottom to give even more. I understand that there are times when we must toil because there is no other choice. But there are other times (probably more than we care to admit) when we choose to do it. I know I’m asking a lot of questions. But what I’m trying to say is deeper than the questions. There is grace in rest. There is no weakness in recognizing that what one needs is to have a seat or two, or several more. We need to bestow grace upon ourselves. As far as we’ve come, we need to understand that we don’t need to fight to prove our strength. There is no battle to wage on our life. And again, I’m not judging. I do believe they are strong. I believe women are strong. I just wonder how much steam that strength of ours will have to run on if we continue this way. That’s all.
It’s Friday! Go Friday! Go Friday! Go Friday! That just sounds like a fun day. Say it with me . . . Friday! Doesn’t it just sound like it should contain fun? I think so. Anyway, I had a topic I wanted to cover, but this issue of fear kept coming up. So many people were talking to me about their fear and how they can’t do the thing they wish because of it. There is this mindset that in order to move, one must fear get over their fear. That is so not true. I’ve talked about fear before, in October. But today, I want to go a little more in depth.
There exists this idea that perfect conditions must exist before we can do that next level thing we wish to do. The reality is that there is never any set of perfect conditions that will arise. And waiting around for those conditions will only keep us from going where we want and need to be. I’ve wanted to write and share my story for years with others. However, fear of failure–rejection and things simply not turning out the way I want–kept me from doing so. And the truth is, those things really aren’t failure. But I’ll address that at a later time. But I was afraid, so I averted the call to do so. But averting the call didn’t cancel the call. It just continued to call, only louder and stronger. And if I hadn’t answered, neither myself nor anyone I’ve possibly helped would have gotten what we needed from my sharing. And I don’t say that to puff myself up. No. That knowledge actually humbles me quite a bit. Watch the video for more of what I have to say about it.
I’ve been single since my divorce, which has been 7 years and counting now. That seems to be a fun fact that bothers everyone but me. I say this because for some reason, people love to decide all on their own—with no prompting from me—that they are going to “hook me up” with someone. Now, I’m going to be honest. I am not, nor have I ever been a fan of matchmaking. My thinking is if you are not a professional, don’t do it. I don’t practice it. I feel even more strongly about this after having been the victim of so many well-intentioned (at least I hope they were) horrible hook ups. This strong feeling only intensified after my horrible experience a few weeks ago at my cousin’s wedding reception.
Picture it: Cooper’s Hawk Winery. A quaint little restaurant in Oak Lawn, IL. I’m with my daughter partaking of the celebration for my cousin and her new husband. I see my aunt wave to me from across the room. She motions for me to come over to her. I walk over to her and she begins to ask me about my hair. She raves about how cute it is and how much she likes it. I politely say thank you and believe that’s the end of it, when she does a most strange thing. She angles me so that I can face the gentleman sitting next to her and makes a sweeping Price-Is-Right showcase model type motion across me as she looks at the gentleman and says, “This is my niece, Je’Niece. She went to Xavier University of Louisiana and she has a Master’s degree.” I find this rather odd, especially when you consider I graduated from grad school over a decade ago. So it’s not like she was announcing my latest accomplishment, or that she was announcing it to the room. No, this was meant as a selling point to one individual. The gentleman makes some small talk with me and I initially think nothing of it, until . . . My aunt, for no reason that I can think of, save for she must have experienced a late onslaught of Tourette’s Syndrome, boldly (and rather loudly might I add) says “Y’all should go out on a date!” At this point, I can’t hide the shock and confusion and so I ask, “How in the world did we get to that?” to which she replies, “Y’all both single.”
And there it was. The idea that my singleness was a condition, which required unnecessary and unsolicited help to alleviate. God forbid that I simply enjoy the reception without having a date forced upon me. I’d like to tell you that’s where it ended, but alas, I cannot. Nope. It went on. Sensing the hair bit was a ruse on my aunt’s part to get me to the table to meet this gentleman caller, I returned to my table. However, I believe the man received more prompting from my aunt so instead of reading the social cues I exhibited; he chose to listen to her and continue to pursue me. I, not wanting to be rude–and also trying to pay more attention to my daughter and the people at our table–continued to be polite. However, that didn’t help me much, since it seemed to give the gentleman a green light to pursue me. At long last, I decide it’s time to go. However, before I could make my great escape, my aunt walked over to me and announced, “Je’Niece he wants your number!” At this point, I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. She senses this and asks, “What, you don’t like him?” I responded by saying, “I don’t know him.” She goes, “Well do you want to know him?” to which I said, “Not particularly.” She then says, “Well why not? He’s single.” There was definitely more to the story but I share this with you to illustrate why I am adamantly against matchmaking.
1. Most people just aren’t good at it. Sure everyone thinks they’re a regular cupid who can magically bring two people together to create the cutest couple. And why shouldn’t they? It’s simple. You just take two people; mix in some common ground, and Voila! Instant relationship. Right? Wrong! There is actually so much more that goes into bringing two people together to create a relationship. And most laypersons just don’t understand this. The average person simply picks two people they like and attempt to throw them together on some very arbitrary trait. I like John. And I like Mia. I will like John and Mia together. Yay! See my aunt’s logic as to why I would fit great with the gentleman. We were both single. That’s all that was needed.
2. It’s awkward as hell. Most people decide to play matchmaker without actually considering the parties involved. As with my aunt, she never even asked me if I was interested until AFTER the man sensed my rejection. If she’d asked me beforehand, she could have saved my aggravation and her gentleman friends feelings. And this isn’t the first time something like this has happened to me. It’s happened far too many times. One Christmas Eve at a family function, one of my grandmother’s church members was at the house. I noticed he kept hanging around me, but I thought it was simply because we were close in age, as everyone else was either much younger or much older than we. Nope. Not to be. One of my other aunt’s later pulled me to the side and announced more than actually asked, “You know I invited him here for you, right?” She was actually shocked when I answered “No.” I had to ask, “Did I ask you to?” She admitted that no I didn’t, but she just thought it would be a good idea for me to get with him since he and I were both single. Again, it made for an awkward night because she’d sent homeboy on a blank mission that he would not complete.
3. When considering the “couple,” most people don’t consider anything beyond the superficial. When people decide to play matchmaker, they don’t usually think about what will be the foundational glue to hold the two people together. Instead, they think, John likes money and food. Mia likes money and food. They can like money and food together! Yes commonalities are great. However, human beings are much too complex to reduce to simple commonalities. A relationship needs more than common surface traits to thrive. My best friend once tried to hook me up with one of her co-workers. She didn’t ask me if I wanted this. She didn’t even ask the coworker if he wanted it. She simply decided that she would do this and it would be great. Her logic was that I was cool, he was cool, and we were both into that “hippy-dippy” stuff. I mean, look at my aunt’s logic. Both the gentleman and myself were single. ‘Nuff said. If that wasn’t the making for a beautiful relationship, then I don’t know what is.
4. Most don’t know how to play their role. If you are playing matchmaker, then you know you role isn’t a participatory one. You are simply a liaison. A consigliere, if you will. You’re a conduit, which connects the two people. But then you back off and allow things to unfold as organically as they possibly can. However, the average layperson doesn’t understand this. They think they need be involved in the entire process, oftentimes trampling over their desired couple’s free will. They will stalk both parties to make sure calls were made, dates were done, what follow-ups are necessary. Take my aunt, for example. She felt it necessary to do the gentleman’s bidding for him and get my number to pass to him, instead of facing the fact that he took his shot and missed.
5. Frankly, I’m quite tired of other people trying to decide my fate. Ok, so this point doesn’t actually support my case, but it’s the truth. I am not the single friend who laments about her single status. So there’s no need for anyone to think that I need help with my single status. On the contrary, I’m quite content. So I grow tired of other people deciding that they’ve had enough of my single status and I need to be in a relationship simply because of their own stuff. Just let me live dammit! Why won’t they let me be great?!
All I’m saying is that people should play their roles. And if you are not Patti Stanger, or some other professional matchmaker, odds are pretty low that you’re skilled in that area. So that means, you best leave that area alone—as well as the people you’re messing with. I can’t speak for everyone, but I can speak for me. Trust me when I say, it’s not welcome. At all. And don’t get me wrong. I’m all for love. And I’m not against two people meeting through a mutual friend. But I think most people should leave the forced love connections alone.
Happy, Magical Friday! You may wonder why I am calling it magical. Well, it’s because you’re here. And I don’t say that lightly. Believe me, I struggle quite often with seeing myself and this world as magical. There are days when I’m feeling anything but magical. There are days when I just want to pull the covers over my head and stay in bed because it feels better than the alternatives. And I can honestly say that I’ve had more of those days than many people believe. And then something happens. My daughter may say something that sends a surge of love through me. Someone I love may call me and give me the exact message I needed to hear at that moment. I may even read a book that speaks to my soul. And I’m reminded of the beauty that lies within. I’m reminded that life is bigger than my feelings. I’m reminded that Honey, it’s not that life is magical. No, it’s that I’m the magic! And so are you. And then I get up and remember like L’oreal says, “I’m worth it.”
Putting the CL on that ASS! 
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