For the past few days,  I have been processing a lot of my emotions about my mother–the deep pain I feel about our broken relationship, the memories, the tears. I do not feel the urge to reach out to her but the lingering question of why always haunts me. Why does she feel the way that she does about me? Why did she never attempt to love me unconditionally and only seem to tolerate me?

The topic of mothers always brings me heaviness. I see people sharing loving memories of their mothers, the sweetness of it, the lessons, the joy. I learned lessons from my own mother hard-there was so sweetness or softness in my experience. And I used to cling to the rarye moments in which it seemed that she was being nice–the time she taught me to ride a bike, the time when she played dolls with me for a little while, or when she told me she was proud of me when I graduated high school.

She is a joy to almost everyone except me. There are countless people that blame me for not having a relationship with her and typically do not believe me when I tell them she has nothing to do with me.

It seems ridiculous that I can only think of a few occasions in which my mother seemed to be a mother to me. And over the years, my disdain and resentment only grew. I was never pretty enough, never calm enough, never enough like “everybody else”. I remember wishing I had been born to a different family, my “real” family, because the one I was in did not seem to fully accept me. My grandparents were the only ones who encouraged my intense curiosity and odd pursuits.

As the years have passed by, I have pondered the what ifs as well. What if I hadn’t been a teenager mother, would she love me then? What if I didn’t look like my father, would she love me then? What if this, what if that. I have come to the conclusion that none of that matters. There exists a legacy of separation between mothers and daughters in my maternal line.

For the past 10 years, I have researched and compiled family history-from maternal and paternal lineages. One major discovery is a theme of separation between mothers and daughters through death and more. Here is the breakdown–my mother and I have no relationship (I was pretty much disowned); my mother was not raised by my grandmother. My grandmother went to work and live in NYC and she was raised by her grandparents. My mother never called her mother momma/mom, she called her Lillie because her grandmother had been her mother until she was 16. My grandma Lillie was not raised by her mother. Her mother, Gracie, abandoned her and her older sister Betty when they were 3 and 5. My grandma had been raised by her step-mother, Caroline. Mother Gracie was not raised by her mother. Her mother, Bettie Alford, hemorrhaged and died after childbirth. So, as you can see, there is a theme.

I have 2 daughters, Ayanna and Aaliyah. I cannot imagine them not being in my life. I cannot imagine not being their mother. I cannot imagine not seeing or speaking to them. They are my legacy. I have sons but, those girls–those girls will continue carrying the legacy of womanhood after I am gone. The theme of separation stops with me.

My ancestral mothers have meant so much to me as I deal with all the hurts of the past. They have been showing up in my dreams, encouraging me, chastising me, guiding me. I have been given many mothers over the years, in one form or the other and I am grateful for them as well.

Maybe she did the best she could with what she had. Maybe she didn’t know how damaging she was to me. We did have a long conversation in 2016 when she pretty much laid out how much my being born had ruined her life and that she wish she hadn’t had me. That conversation almost sent me over the edge mentally. I have never recovered.

There is not much I can do about the situation between Queen and I . She used to say that we get along better when we are not around each other. I guess she got her wish. And maybe she was right. I wish no harm upon her and I do not seek anyone’s sympathy for my predicament. I chose this life. And I will flourish in spite  of being a motherless child.

 

Peace,

Ashaki

It has been entirely too long since my last post but, I am here nonetheless. Life continues to happen and I finally feel as though it is not happening to me, I am actively pursuing and participating in it.

I have had so many awesome experiences since my last post and so much more to share but the purpose of this post is to share another amazing family discovery.

I have been on the journey of researching my family for years. I always wanted to know who I came from. There is an inherent vibe of resiliency that permeates me and I know it is due to the blood that flows through my veins- the blood of all those who came before me.

This DNA calls to me and causes me to dig deeper, to dive into more self discovery and self exploration. So, yesterday, I began to dig again and what I found brought me so much joy.

I discovered an ancestor who was born in the year 1800. She is the oldest ancestor that I have been able to find. Pauline Rogers. The name sounds like some ordinary somebody but, there is nothing ordinary about anyone from that period. I have found something that I suspected all along as well- a direct Native American connection.

I was ecstatic to share the news with my younger cousin, Yaa, as she and I both share a deep passion for this as well as our spiritual journeys. I had to fight back tears of joy as I have been able to do what we all believed was impossible- trace our lineage back over 200 years! Put a name to those who visit us as we sleep- the ability to find more family and connect!

This work may be one of the most important works that I have ever done. It certainly is an honorable one as we all desire to know the roots of the tree in which we sprang from. A book may come from this- I am not sure. But, I am absolutely certain that my ancestors continue to reveal themselves to me for a purpose. And I am here for it all….

 

Peace,

Ashaki

 

 

Photo Credit:

Greetings fam! As always, I hope this message finds you well. Spring has “sprung”, though in many areas, it still feels like winter. Pollen has been seen blanketing vehicles in my city of Charlotte. In this city, dogwood trees are in full bloom and I love it.

I hear people talking about all the spring cleaning that they will do. But, I have already completed mine. It just comes second nature to me. I rearranged the furniture, cleaned out the closets, donated clothing, and so much more.

Although I have many more goals in respect to my life, I am so grateful for all that I have accomplished and the simple luxuries that I have in my life. I can sit in my apartment and feel absolutely peaceful, uninterrupted in my thoughts, and joy overcomes me.

Now, I am feeling the fever. I need to get out of the house, do more, show up more, be more. It is my nature to retreat into my world. I am challenging myself to show up more though, to get out and experience new things and meet new people. So far, I am doing just that and loving every minute!

So cheers to a new season, new opportunities, and new beginnings! May we all enjoy all that is blossoming in our lives!

 

Peace,

Ashaki

I buried my best friend, my teacher, my buddy, my dear grandma Lillie on this day 18 years ago. 18 years- how in the hell is that possible? It doesn’t seem that so many years should have passed by when her death is still so raw, so fresh, so painful to think about.

I still remember the call. I had been feeling sick at work the entire evening and just a week earlier, I had dreamed that she died. So, when my phone rung at around  11:30 that night, I knew what it was before I heard the dreaded words.

I never thought I would lose her in the tragic manner that I did. But, throughout my life, my grandmother had made it clear that she knew that she wouldn’t live to be a very old woman. She would say ” I ain’t gonna live as long as Mama”. “Mama” was her mother and she lived to be 87. Her death was bitter, life shattering, and mind altering. It rocked our family to the core and the damage from her passing created clear rifts that are beyond repair.

Typically, I am fine on Valentine’s Day and even reminisce about my eulogizing her. I still cannot tell you how I stood up in that church and spoke so eloquently about her. All I know was that I had to do it. I didn’t feel that anyone else could do her justice.But, I am literally sitting here now with tears in my eyes, missing her.

I always sing her praises and I always will. I miss her terribly, especially when I am not having the best of days. My grandma had a way of making me feel that all was well, even when it clearly wasn’t. “My Girl” was her song to me and hearing the Temptations song sometimes stings because of the meaning that song has to me.

The days that followed her death were filled with questions, tears, anger, regret, and disbelief. I just could not deal with the fact that I would never hear her laughter again, or hear her stories, or sit in her lap. Gone were the hugs and kisses, the encouraging words, the undying support. My Grandma Lillie meant so much to me and helped nurture me for my entire life.

And although I know she is always with me, guiding me, speaking to me, watching over me, even chastising me when I fall short, the pain of the absence of her presence still hurts me to my core. May my life make her proud, bring honor to her memory, and joy to her spirit.

 

Peace,

Ashaki

Greetings fam! I hope this message finds you well and I hope you are not feeling overwhelmed about all of the holiday madness. I wanted to just drop in really quickly to check up on all on you all and speak briefly about a few things.

Can you believe that 2019 is as close as it is? I certainly can’t. When I look and think back on 2018 and how quickly it all went by, I can’t help but to remember my grandma Lillie saying that the older you get the quicker times goes. I remember saying that it wasn’t possible but, I swear it’s the truth.

Maybe it is because we are always so busy doing – working, cleaning, cooking, talking, texting, posting, checking in, running around, supporting, and so on and so forth. Which begs the question, how much time have we spent simply being?

I remember when I was a married twenty-something. I would spend so much time shopping, cooking, decorating, wrapping, and working, and mothering, and wifeing (I know this isn’t a word lol) but, I never stopped to just BE. It left me feeling resentful trying to be Polly Perfect and neglecting myself.

I suppose from the outside looking in my family looked ideal. The smiles on the pictures covered up the dysfunction that lurked. And my heart was simply heavy and my spirit was being dragged. I truly do not know how I survived it all back then. I was driven by this need to create a family that I never had as a child.

Now, I am at a place in my life that I must be and do and think and feel and express myself as I see fit. I have learned the masterful skill of detachment- detachment from people, places, things, ideas, mindsets , habits, and more that are not serving my highest good. And I realize that in my imperfection, I am perfectly perfect.

There are mantras posted by my bed that I read nearly every day. One of them goes as follows:

“I release attachment to all that is not serving my highest good”.  This simple mantra has empowered me to let go of all of the ideas I had of how I should behave as a mother and now ex-wife.

The fallacies we hold about how we should be and act can be damaging, but only if we allow it. We have the power to change the narrative at any time we so choose. So, this is my encouragement to you- if you feel chained in your life, hostage to your “titles, and bound by tradition, choose you over all of it. You deserve to live every day joyfully, no matter how unconventional it may seem to others. Do it for you.

Release.

It is absolutely sweet.

 

Peace,

Ashaki

Greetings everyone! I cannot believe it is Friday again already. Where did the week disappear to? I am still reeling from all the changes occurring in my life currently. I have no doubt I am also still feeling the vibes from the awesome Full Moon as well.

I have prided myself on being adaptable but, this time, I honestly am having difficulty adjusting. I can be change averse at times especially if I feel I have been forced and did not have complete control over said changes. But, I am so resilient and persistent that I have no doubt that I will get a handle on things very soon.

I am truly finding out what I am made of and I am always open to messages that the universe provides to confirm and validate my feelings and thoughts on the direction of my life. I have realized that in my quiet, my inner hearing is more powerful and poignant. And connection to others is so very important.

I had an awesome and beautiful discussion with my younger cousin yesterday that set me straight and then throughout last night and this morning, more messages were received confirming my new way of being and thinking.

In the past I have been guilty of making movements that I may not have been entirely sold on but took because of assumed obligations. I have a large family for which I have been the “breadwinner” for the entire time. I have never been in a situation where someone else was paying the majority of the bills in my house.

I realize that I have done a lot of things including remaining in places much too long, and gave people passes out of fear. Because of my past and the things that lie in my subconscious, I fear lack, I fear not knowing the “how”, I fear letting go and allowing flow.

But, in not allowing things to flow as the universe would have, I have created obstacles in my own journey and hindrances in my growth. It is a hard pill to swallow but, to get better, I have to acknowledge and move on and in a different manner. Einstein once said, “The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.”

So, here I sit, uncomfortable in my new situation but determined to never look or move backwards. I have chosen to take more risks and to pursue things that I am passionate about . Sometimes we must bet it all! A friend used to say “the bigger the risk, the greater the reward. And I am so ready to receive!

In the meantime, I will be mindful in my decisions, continue to make strides daily so that I can live life on my own terms, doing worthwhile work, and go with the flow!

Peace,

Ashaki

Greetings! I hope this post finds you well on this Thursday morning. I have not written about the never-ending atrocities of racism that my people continue to experience in quite some time. However, things will never change unless we speak about them and act upon them.

The Waffle House killer, Travis Reinking, was taken into custody a few days ago. And although his bond has been revoked, I can not help but to feel infuriated that this murderer was able to stay on the lamb so long and not have a hair on his pretty little head hurt. This case has white privilege written all over it! I feel the same way that I felt when Dylan Roof was taken to get some food by cops after his capture. In the words of an old friend—I am 38 hot!

The names of my people who have been killed at the hands of police officers in Amerikkka over years is absolutely staggering. According to the Washington Post, 68 African Americans have been killed by police this year thus far and in 2017, 223 were killed by police. And according to mappingpoliceviolence.org, black people are 3 times more likely to be killed by police than their white counterparts.

There is no arguing with data. And although I am an artist at heart, I also believe in the power of numbers. My point is that the so-called justice system is truly a “just-us” system. It has been created to protect the interests of those who have held power in this country since its inception. The killings by police is straight up modern day lynching.

So, excuse me if I do not want to hold hands and sing “Kumbaya”.  Amerikka has still not stopped harvesting “Strange Fruit”. May the families of the 4 victims of the Waffle House killer find some semblance of peace in their life. They have my eternal respect.

 

Peace,

Ashaki