7 Ways To Make Work Suck Less

I was thinking the other day that I have been working ever since I graduated from college, and I graduated from college 22 years ago, y’all.  22 YEARS AGO!!!  I’m at that point in my career when I think I’ve come a long way, but then I look ahead and realize that I still have several more years of work before I hit those golden retirement years.

Isn’t it funny how your mid-career and mid-life crisis hit around the same time?  I digress …

I have definitely learned some valuable lessons over these 22 years of working with many different people in many different places.  I’ll share a few with you.

Here are seven ways to make work suck less (lol):

1.  Decorate your space.  Let’s face it.  We’re at work for 8+ hours a day for 5 days a week.  We spend a considerable amount of time at work, so we might as well make ourselves comfortable and at home.  Who wants to stare at blank, drab walls all day?  Decorate your work space.  Bring in pictures of your loved ones.  Brighten your space with a lamp.  Add a plant or flowers to the office or cubicle.  Cover your cubicle walls with contact paper with a bold pattern.  Get creative.  It’s amazing how simple things can lighten your mood.  And let’s be real.  Sometimes you need the pictures of the spouse and kids to remind you of why you are working … to provide them with a good life.  And sometimes you need the pictures as a reminder not to go off the deep end.  Look at those pictures and repeat the things you know you need that paycheck for … mortgage, groceries, daycare, tuition, car payment, vacation, etc (lol).

Cubicle Sweet Cubicle

"Black Girl Magic" Wall

2.  Play some music.  Keep an iPod and a speaker or earbuds at your desk and have a playlist going to get you through the day.  Music is good for the soul.

3.  Take breaks.  This sounds simple enough, but I have lost count of the times that I have been so busy and consumed with work during the day that I don’t realize I didn’t take a break until it’s time to go home.  You need that time to unwind to keep your sanity.  Take a walk around the parking lot or deck.  Get out of the office and go to lunch.  Just get up from your desk and clear your head.  The break will do you some good.

4.  Avoid negativity or your negative coworkers.  That coworker that’s always complaining but never offers any solutions?  Yeah … steer clear of Doug or Debbie Downer.  Don’t get sucked into their pity parties. 

5.  Avoid all office gossip.  For real.  For real.  Run away like Usain Bolt when folks start talking.  When stuff starts to hit the fan around the office, you don’t want your name attached to any mess or messiness.  You hear folks talking?  Keep it moving.

6.  Stay away from the office “Becky” or “Jeff”.  Who are Becky and Jeff, you ask?  They are the backstabbers.  They are the smile-in-your-face but talk-behind-your-back and throw-you-under-the-bus coworkers.  They are the insecure ones who are always figuratively (and sometimes literally) shouting “look at me!” and reminding folks every chance they get how they worked hard to make their way up the ladder.  They are also the same ones in the corner pouting when others in the office are getting some shine.  They hate when you call them out for being wrong or messy, and they throw a loud temper tantrum about it until you ask them to repeat themselves.  Then, all of a sudden, they are church mouse quiet.  Every office has a “Becky” or a “Jeff”.  If they speak to you, be cordial and say “hello”, but keep it moving.  Becky and Jeff are not to be trusted.  Disclaimer – These are generic names that I randomly chose, so don’t go getting all in your feelings if your name happens to be Becky or Jeff … unless, of course, YOU are your office’s Becky or Jeff (lol).

7.  Your coworkers are not your friends, so keep your private life private.  Seriously, keep your work life and private life separate.  The workplace can be cut-throat at times.  Don’t share your personal business with people that aren’t in your inner circle.  Your coworkers don’t need to know you like that, and you don’t need them knowing anything they could possibly use against you later.  Be careful when choosing which coworkers to connect with on social media sites.  To be safe, don’t connect with them at all.

Follow these rules to help eliminate workplace drama and stress and to attempt to create a more productive work environment.  Give ‘em a try!

Damn, Sammy! : The New Look Ain't A Good One

Sammy Sosa (sigh).  Where to start?

I’m sure by now, many of you have seen a new picture of Sammy Sosa that emerged last week.  If you will recall a few years ago, Sammy Sosa bleached his skin.  He went from being creamy caramel brown to a pasty vanilla.  The newest picture of him went viral last week, and he kinda looks like strawberry Nesquik to me.  I’m still not sure if that was really his skin color or if it was the pink shirt and hat he was wearing in the picture that gave him a pink glow.

Either way, he looks ridiculous.

I will admit that I laughed so hard at times that I laughed myself to tears at all the memes of Sammy Sosa that appeared on social media last week, especially on Black Twitter.  Some of those memes?  Straight comedy, y’all (lol).  Straight comedy.

But after the laughter subsided, a feeling came over me that I cannot accurately describe.  I’m not sure if it was sadness.  Disbelief?  Maybe.  Perhaps it was pity.

Look … when I was growing up, I was teased and picked on a lot for being dark-skinned.  I was called ugly and unattractive by kids my age and by some "adults".  It was hard not to internalize those insults people constantly hurled at me. As if those coming-of-age years aren’t already awkward enough, and then adding to that the low self-esteem I had because of things people would say about and to me every day.  Every single day.

Looking back, perhaps it was just the ass-backward town I grew up in because when I went to Florida every summer to visit my Mama’s family, when I went to summer camps, when I went away to the South Carolina Governor’s School for Science and Math my junior and senior years of high school, when I went away to college, and when I moved away from home and started living on my own, everything was different and people treated me differently.  All those years of being made to feel less than because of my skin tone took a toll because I initially felt suspicious of anyone who gave me real compliments.  Instead of “You’re pretty for a dark girl”, I started to hear “You’re pretty.”  Period.

It took a long time to undo all the damage of all those hurtful words from my childhood and to claim and embrace my Beautiful Black Queen status.

So in a crazy kind of way, I get it.  I understand how words can cut so deeply that they leave lasting scars on your psyche.  But even after enduring years of backhanded compliments, teasing, and insults, I never thought of bleaching my skin, and I never wanted to be white.  THAT part, I don’t get and can’t understand.

In a previous interview on the subject of Sosa lightening his skin, he said, “It’s a bleaching cream that I apply before going to bed and whitens my skin some.  It’s a cream that I have, that I use to soften [my skin], but has bleached me some. I’m not a racist, I live my life happily.” 

So this new Sammy Sosa?  I don’t know if I want to give him a hug or smack him upside the head and ask him what the hell is he thinking.  I guess it all boils down to doing whatever it is you need to do to feel better about yourself.  But when feeling better about yourself involves drastically changing your natural skin color and becoming a totally different person, that’s just sad.

Extremely sad.

I Love My Locs ... But Not Your Assumptions

The last relaxer I put in my hair was way back in 1999.  At the time, I didn’t make an intentional decision to wear my hair natural.  I wanted to rock micro-braids, and my hairstylist advised I would have better results with the braids if my hair wasn’t chemically treated.  I wore my hair in braids and twists for a few years.  Before I knew it, I had a head full of natural hair and an afro reminiscent of the one Angela Davis rocked back in the day.  It was fierce!!!

Even though I wore my hair in braids and twists for years, I was always attracted to locs.  Locs are and have always been simply beautiful to me.  And if they are well-maintained (because we all know some folks don’t always regularly maintain their locs), I feel they look so stately and regal.  When I was pregnant with my son back in 2003, I decided to bite the bullet and loc my hair.  It was the best hair decision I have ever made.

Pipe cleaner curls

This October, I will be celebrating my 14^th year of wearing my hair in locs.  My loc-aversary, if you will.  What I have found over these many years is that because I have locs, people make certain assumptions either about me or my hair.

Curled locs

I wear my hair in locs, so I must be from Jamaica.  You read that right.  You would be amazed how many times I have been asked if I was from Jamaica.  If by Jamaica you mean my hometown of Anderson, South Carolina, then sure.  I’m Jamaican.  Hey, mon!!

I wear my hair in locs, so I must smoke weed.  I do not nor have I ever smoked weed, and I didn’t realize how many people really think weed-smoking is a prerequisite for wearing your hair in locs.  Go figure.

I wear my hair in locs, so I don’t wash my hair.  Here’s a newsflash.  My locs?  Hair.  The hair is uncombed, not unwashed.  So … I use shampoo and water just like everybody else.

I wear my hair in locs, so I have a criminal record.  Excuse me.  What the hell kind of assumption is that?  I am college educated and gainfully employed.  I don’t have a criminal record.  I’ve never been in jail.  I mean … really?!?!?  The fact that someone would equate locs with criminality does make me want to smack ‘em upside the head, so I guess a record could be in my future (lol).

I wear my hair in dreadlocks, so … lemme stop you right there.  I despise the term “dreadlocks” because there is NOTHING dreadful about my hair.  Unless you want to die by my killer side-eye, don’t ever use “dreadlocks” around me.

I wear my hair in locs, so it’s okay for you to touch them.  Let me clear this up for you real quick.  DO NOT TOUCH MY HAIR!!!!  Nothing annoys me like someone who assumes it’s okay for them to put their hands on me or my hair.  First of all, don’t invade my personal space.  Secondly, it’s hair.  Get over it.  Thirdly, everybody’s hygiene ain’t the same, and I have no idea where your hands have been.  Please keep them out of my hair.  I don’t want your hair or spirit all over me.  I am not a pet, so don’t try to stroke my hair for your entertainment. 

I wear my hair in locs, so that means I will loc my kids’ hair, too.  No.  That’s incorrect.  I will never forget that when my now 13 year-old son was an infant, one of the ladies at his daycare asked me with her face all torn up and her nose stuck in the air, “You’re not going to put the baby’s hair in ‘those things’, are you?”  I remember my response being something along the lines of, “And if I did, what does it matter to you?  Do you have a problem with my hair?”  She apologized after picking her face off the floor.  But, as much as I love my hair, the decision to make the commitment to locs is a personal one.  If you see my kids with loc’d hair, it’s because they made the choice to do so themselves.  I’m not making that decision for them.

I often hear from folks that they are surprised at how versatile my hair is.  Chile, don’t hate me because my hair is beautiful (lol).  The styles I have had over the years with my locs are endless.  People are constantly amazed with them all.  Honestly, I’m amazed myself.  My hairstylist NEVER disappoints and keeps my locs looking their absolute best.

Two-strand twists in a bun with a wrapped loc bang.

My locs are wrapped around pipe cleaners.

Wrapped locs.

Loops and chains.

And really, folks.  After a photo that went viral recently on social media, we can no longer make ANY assumptions about people with locs.  Did you see this photo … of a Ku Klux Klan member at a rally … wearing his hair in locs?  A Klan member (ie. a racist, a white supremacist, a hater of all things Black) … with LOCS, y’all!!!  Da hell?!?!?

I am reminded of the lyrics to India.Arie’s hit and will close with them …

I am not my hair.
I am not this skin.
I am not your expectations.  No.
I am not my hair.
I am not this skin.
I am the soul that lives within.

Shout out to Glenda Jones of Sincerely Yours Salon in Durham, NC.  She keeps my hair looking FLY!!!

Just Keep Swinging

If you have been following my blog or know me personally, then you know my son Randal plays baseball.  He loves the game, and he’s pretty good at it, too.  The past few years, he’s played on his middle school team and on league teams in the spring, summer, and fall.  This summer, he’ll be playing on a travel team.  We’ve become quite the baseball family because it seems that is all we do from March to October. 

Randal during the school team's season

Last week, my son’s team played in and won their league’s tournament.  The championship game was intense.  After the first inning, we were up 1 to 0, and the score remained 1 to 0 until the last inning of the game.  Randal pitched the entire game.  Let me tell you … that last inning was nothing short of spectacular.

We were up first to bat.  We go through a few batters.  Right before Randal heads to the batter’s box, one of the boys on the team got a hit and brought in another player.  We’re up 2 to 0 now, but we have 2 outs.  The bases are loaded.

Here comes the first pitch.  Randal swings and misses.  STRIKE ONE.

Here comes the next pitch.  Randal swings, but it’s a foul ball.  STRIKE TWO.

Now as a parent, I’m in the stands, and I’m about to lose my freakin’ mind!!!!  2 outs?  2 strikes?  I’m thinking there’s no way in the world we can recover from this.  We’re about to go back to the dugout and hope to keep the other team from scoring so we can pull off this game.  (Don’t you just love my French?  We / oui … and I haven’t suited up to play a single inning.  Lol.) 

Here comes pitch number three.  Randal swings.  The ball flies out deep into right field. 

Grand slam!  Let me say that again in case you missed it.  GRAND FREAKIN’ SLAM!!!!  Four runs come in, and we go up 6 to 0.

Another batter from our team comes up.  He hits a grounder and gets out at first.  That’s the third out.

It’s the bottom of the last inning.  Randal goes to the mound to pitch.  Three players up.  Three players down.  Just like that.  One.  Two.  Three.  He strikes out all three players.  Game over.  We win.

WE WIN!!!!

I know this ain’t the MLB.  It’s a league ball game with 10 to 13 year old boys on the field.  But lemme tell you something.  I couldn’t have been any prouder of my son.  He was calm.  He was confident.  He was composed.  He was under a great deal of pressure, but he still accomplished what he and his team had been working hard for all season … to win a championship.

After the game when I had a chance to talk to Randal, I asked him how he managed to stay so calm and focused during the game.  To paraphrase, he simply stated he did what he had to do.  He told me that he heard all the trash talking the parents and fans of the other team yelled out to and at him during the game. 

“You got him now!  He can’t hit your pitch!” 

“The pitcher’s getting tired.  Hit a homer on him!”

“He’s got nothing on you!”

“Strike him out!”

“Shut him DOWN!!!”

… and there were a few other things he told me he heard during the game that I won’t mention.  (On another note, the good Lord knew exactly what He was doing to shield me from those people and the comments being made.  This Mama right here would have had a few things to say to those folks.  And how are you gonna come to a game and trash talk about 10 to 13 year old kids?!?!?  I mean … really?!?!?)

Randal said he took all of that good and bad energy (his desire to win and the comments of the naysayers) and used it to get him through the game.  That energy became his motivation.  He never said a word.  He never talked back to the other team or their fans.  He just got the job done and flashed them all big smiles as he walked off the field after every third out.

After talking to him, why did my heart almost burst with even more pride?  My son, in only a way that he could do, had just become my teacher / motivator.  There was a lesson in that game.

How many times in life have we felt discouraged or like we were trying to accomplish the impossible?  How many times have we felt like we had 2 outs, were in the batter’s box with 2 strikes against us, and the game was on the line?  Do we give up?  Do we become afraid and think there’s no way possible we can do what we have planned or desired to do?  Do we internalize the words of the people we hear screaming for our demise in the background?

Or do we just keep swinging? 

It ain’t over ‘til it’s over, so just keep swinging.  Grand slam.  Game over.  Victory.

As a mom, it is my absolute duty to use the example of this game for the rest of Randal’s life (lol) to remind him of the lesson he taught me on that championship game day.  Stay calm, stay focused, find your motivation, and just keep swinging. 

Thanks, son.  You always make me proud.

Video of the championship game grand slam.  Please excuse the

quality of the video.  I got so excited and started to cheer.  I forgot

I was still recording (lol).

My Mothers' Day Grief

Not all of us will be celebrating Mothers’ Day this Sunday.  For some of us, Sunday will be a day of great sadness as we try to cope with the fact that our mothers are no longer here with us.

This will be my second Mothers’ Day without Mama.  Last year was especially hard, as all the “firsts” after a loved one’s death tend to be.  While my husband and kids made plans for me and went out of their way to make the day special for me, there were times during the day that were tear-filled and just downright painful.  I wasn’t then and I still am not at the place where memories of Mama bring smiles instead of tears.  Thoughts of how much I miss Mama are what really consumes me.   

I don’t know what it is about this year, but folks started in with all the Mothers’ Day tributes early … almost like how retailers these days have started to put out Christmas items even before Halloween comes.  For the last couple weeks, people have changed their profile pictures on Facebook with the “I Love Mom” or “Mom and Me” filters.  While I have never considered myself to be the jealous type, I found myself envious of those that have the good fortune of still having their mothers around.  A word of advice to you.  Cherish every single second.  Cherish all the time you have with your mom while she’s still with you.

I’m still not sure what I’m doing on Sunday, but I do know a couple things I won’t be doing.  For starters, I’ll be logging off all social media on Sunday.   I’ll save myself from having to see all the posts of Mothers’ Day pictures, poems, and celebrations.  I also won’t be going to church (although I don’t go much these days anyway, but I digress).  I don’t want to hear the “virtuous woman” scripture.  Surely there will be some song the choir would sing or a special Mothers’ Day sermon that will open up the flood gates for me.  I don’t want a church member to come up to me and give me the “poor baby” look and try to squeeze a cry out of me.  I can do without that.

To all those who are in the same boat with me, I’ll say a special prayer for us to make it through Mothers’ Day unscathed.

Instead of dwelling on the emptiness and sadness I feel over the loss of my Mama, I’ll try my best to concentrate on celebrating being the mother of my two beautiful children.  They will be my reasons to smile on Sunday … and every day after.

My Family's Visit to the Smithsonian National Museum of African-American History and Culture

A few weeks ago, my family and I took a trip to Washington, DC to visit the new Smithsonian National Museum of African-American History and Culture.  I have been dying to go to the museum since it opened in September 2016.  The trip was everything I expected and so much more.  Our visit to the museum was such a memorable and humbling experience.  I felt such a range of emotions seeing and reading all the exhibits in the museum.  If you haven't gone, you must.  This is absolutely something you have to see, feel, and experience for yourself. 

If I may, I’d like to make a couple of suggestions to anyone who hasn’t yet gone but is planning a visit.  If possible, plan to visit the museum when you have time to go at least 2 days in a row.  The museum is open from 10:00 am to 5:30 pm.  We spent the entire day at the museum when we visited.  While we were able to “see” everything, we technically were not able see and read and absorb everything the museum has to offer.  There is so much in the museum that it could literally take a few days in a row to truly see and experience everything that’s there.

Secondly, go to the museum when you are taking a long weekend or have a few days off before going back to work or school.  I remember hearing many people say (and feeling this way myself) that after seeing “Roots” for the first time ever, they felt some kind of way towards White folks.  The same is true of the museum.  There are some things you will see and read about that will anger you, that will sadden you, and will shake you to your core.  The brutality we have endured over the years at the hands of people who feel themselves superior to us?  Trust me.  Take a break before going back to work (lol).  You will need that time to decompress.

There are several floors at the museum.  We started on the bottom floors and worked our way up.  The bottom floors started with slavery in America.  The stories.  The pictures.  The videos.  It’s no surprise the bottom floors of the museum are so very dark literally and figuratively. 

Slave shackles on display at the NMAAHC.

While there were several things that took my breath away as I read all the exhibits in the museum, the exhibit that dealt with motherhood during slavery really stuck with me.

I couldn’t imagine giving birth to a child and not being able to care for my baby because I had to attend to massuh’s chir’ren.  I couldn’t imagine caring for and loving my child only to be separated from him or her later if one of us got sold away.  And when I read about how a slave owner repeatedly operated on enslaved women without using anesthesia … my spirit doubled over in pain at the thought of it.  He used these women as human lab rats!  I was shocked and angered.

And while some things took my breath away because of the horror and anger I felt, other things took my breath away because I was standing so close to greatness.

I was within feet of the Bible that was once in the hands of Nat Turner.  We saw up close and in person the shawl worn by Harriet Tubman in her infamous portrait.

And the Emmett Till memorial …

I first learned of the story of Emmett Till as a pre-teenager over 30 years ago, but his memorial in the NMAAHC still brought me to tears.  We stood in front of the actual casket he was buried in.  The funeral photos on display at the exhibit.  The video of his mother describing what she saw when she saw his body for the first time after his murder.  Jesus …

While I love reading and studying about Black history, I learned so many new things from my visit to the NMAAHC.  I learned of people, places, and things I’ve never heard of before. 

I’m originally from South Carolina and never heard of or knew the story of Frazier Baker.  While I’ve heard of the Little Rock Nine, James Meredith, and Ruby Bridges, there was Dorothy Counts who attempted to integrate a high school in Charlotte, NC. 

I think the thing that brought the most joy from our visit to the museum was watching my son read, digest, and learn about our history.

My son loves baseball, so he lingered a while at the sports exhibits, especially those dealing with baseball.  My daughter is only three years old, so we will definitely take her back when she’s old enough to understand the significance of it all.  We were able to capture this picture of her in front of the waterfall at the museum’s Contemplative Court.  In the background is a line from a Sam Cooke song … “A Change Is Gonna Come.”  I certainly hope so.  

I cannot adequately put into words or explain enough how much our visit to the museum meant to me.  After all the things we have seen and endured since we stepped foot in America and the things we STILL see and experience every day is a testament to our strength.  We are bold.  We are courageous.  We are unbreakable.  I’m saying it loud … I’M BLACK AND I’M PROUD.

My "No Negativity" Challenge

Please allow me this moment of transparency. 

Sometimes (okay … a LOT of times), I can be very self-conscious about myself and the way I look.  This is an issue I’ve had for 40+ years, so this is indeed a very hard habit to break.  It may start off when I look in the mirror and not like the image looking back at me.  Then it may be compounded when I go to put on an outfit that may be fitting a little more snuggly than it did the last time I wore it.  And then it always ends with me saying something negative about myself.

I have decided that 40+ years of being my own worst critic is 40 years too long.  Enough is enough.  Why not love on myself and change the narrative?  So, that’s exactly what I’m going to do.  From now on, I will make the conscious effort to concentrate on the good and the beauty I see.  No more negativity.

There are two reasons I need to do this.  One, I simply need to stop beating myself up.  All the negative self-talk can be a heavy burden to bear, and I have tired myself out from the toll it has taken on me over the years.  Secondly and most importantly is that my daughter is watching me.  I have always made sure I never say anything negative about myself in front of her because I don’t want her doing that.  I don’t want her caught up in this vicious, self-defeating cycle. 

I know I am not the only woman who does this.  In talking with friends, we all have done this to ourselves at one time or another.  And sometimes it can be so intrinsic and automatic that we don’t even realize what we are doing to ourselves. 

So, I want to issue a challenge to you today.  Whenever you have a negative thought about yourself, send that thought back to the pits of hell from whence it came.  Whatever you have to do to hype yourself up and remind yourself of your Queen status, DO IT!!!!  Keep a favorite photo of yourself nearby to remind yourself of who you are.  Find a theme song or some hype music.  Blast the hell out of it and walk around like you are Muhammad Ali and about to go into a boxing ring and kick negativity’s ass!  Just do it!

No more negativity.  More self-love and care.

I created my own hype video to remind myself of my QUEEN status.

(Music by Alicia James "Love Me So Naturally")