So Today, I Cried Instead of Crashing Out

                                                    So, today I cried instead of crashing out.
                                                        Instead of Jesus wept, I wept

                                                       at the most inopportune moment.

I tried to hold it in.
You’re not supposed to cry on camera,
not in front of your supervisor.
But I didn’t care.

I needed to weep.
To be seen as human.
To let go of the perfectionist mask.

I wept for those who can’t.
For those who struggle to express
misplaced emotions and buried feelings.
I wept for past experiences
that left me broken and bleeding in silence.

I wept into my mother’s arms—
because the pain was too much
to hold on my own.

So, I wept.

Will I do it again?
I’m afraid so.
But weeping…There 
was a feeling of sweet sorrow.

In that moment of vulnerability,
I didn’t apologize.
I took a deep breath and said:
“I don’t belong here.”
My purpose and plan are
beyond this place.

Those words came from a place of
discernment,
self-awareness,
and discovery.

I’m thankful for the space I was in—
safe enough to break down
and still stand up again.

Yes, I wept.
With embarrassment.
And empowerment.

Because this isn’t my final resting place.
This is just a stop along the journey.
And I know—I know—
I’m rising to the top.

By Andrea C. Stallworth
 

✨ Author’s Note
I wrote this poem on a difficult day, one that reminded me of the power of my creativity when it flows freely. I hadn’t written poetry in a while, but the heaviness cracked something open. It reminded me that my best work doesn’t come from being micromanaged, criticized, or governed. It comes from my truth. From my soul. There’s a part of me I’ve suppressed for too long, and it’s time to let her rise, unapologetically.

Jazzy January (An Ode to My Grandma Tessie Mae Stallworth)

Dear Jazzy January you have been a blessing to me
From January 1st to the 13th you created her story.
Born through a Boston blizzard, an infamous day the Stallworths' will always remember.

Auld Lang Syne, tic toc, acquaintances  are often forgot its their time to get dropped.
You stand out first, some people use curse words because you work their nerves.
Jazzy January stands strong, bold, and focused.

New Years Day birth Tessie Mae
Born in Owassa, Alabama,
Panorama, cozy and quaint community
God blessed the soul of the simple but complex beauty.

Quiet woman, hard worker didn’t go unnoticed.
Soul of a Goddess, mysterious eyes so exotic
Red undertones, European style nose blessed with a mystique, high cheek bones.
Creek Indian blood flow, kissed by the winter sun, blissful pleasant glow.

From Jim Crow to missing free throws
I carry on Tessie’s legacy
Jazzy Jan thanks for blessing me.

Free Friday: I Am Free To Be Me!

                                    

                    "Don't trade in your authenticity for approval" -Rapsody

Happy Freedom Friday! This week while sitting still, I realize that I was free. Ever since, a child I drove my mother crazy because I use to tell her that I don't care what people think about me. She gasps... At the age of 31 I definitely don't care what people think about me because I am free. When I mean by being free, I mean I dance to my own rhythm, I don't follow trends and I am not a follower. I refuse to shrink my greatness and I don't give permission to anyone to do the same.

Last week, I took a long hard stare in the mirror and realize that I am FREE! I had to analyze my freeness because I had an old high school friend compliment me on my freeness. She said Drea, I don't know how you do it, you are so intelligent, beautiful, dress well, a professional, kind and cultured. She proceed to say, "I don't know how to be free like that because I am always guarded and walk on eggshells." I explained to her that I am a work in progress but we have choices in life and I choose to be free because I broke free from being held in captivity a few years ago. I was once voiceless, hopeless and powerless until I had to shift my mindset and regain my power. We go through moments in which we give permission to people and/or things to enslave us. 

My mother's favorite motto in life is "No one can hold you down but yourself. Never give your power away." -Josie Mae After leading my Girl Scout troop to the creative promise land, I decided to embrace and celebrate my FLYness by getting a mani and pedi at my local nail shop. While I was getting the hot stone foot massage, I had an undeniable urge to write a poem. I swear in my past life, I was a poet and Hip Hop artist wrapped into one. I hope all my Brown Girls appreciate this poem!

Too Bad, I Am Free To Be Me

You have a problem with me being me...that's too bad
You have a problem with my skin color...that's too bad
You have a problem with me living in your neighborhood...that's too bad
You have a problem with me being in this store...that's too bad
You have a problem with me because I have an advance degree...that's too bad
You have a problem with me because I refuse to settle...that's too bad
You have a problem with me because I choose to be free...that's too bad
You have a problem with me and my dope crew...that's too bad
You have a problem with me because I speak my mind...that's too bad
You have a problem with me being for the people...that's too bad
You have a problem with me shining my light...that's too bad

As you can see, I don't feel sorry for me.
I don't care if you are uncomfortable around me because I am free!
Free from judgement, free from your hate, free to make mistakes, free to make decision, free to be beautiful, free to shed my light and free to be me!

By Andrea C. Imafidon

I want to say thank you for reading Brown Girl From Boston. We love you all!

Brown Girl Question: Do you consider yourself free? Why or why not? What do you need to do to break free from captivity? Let's talk about it. 

If you are feeling the poem, please share your comment below. 

Brown Girl From Boston Lost Files: Ramblings of Cocktail Parties and Urbanology

“You must be unintimidated by your own thoughts because if you write with someone looking over you shoulder, you'll never write.” ― Nikki Giovanni

Besides being a blogger, life coach, social worker, mentor and fill in the blank, I am also a closet spoken word artist. (LOL) Whenever I feel moved to create a spoken word piece, I usually create something that is from my life experience, current events or frustration. Ramblings of Cocktails Parties and Urbanology is a piece that was created from true events. Being a Brown Girl from Boston, leaving Boston at the age of 18 and traveling back and forth to Boston for 13 years, I have experienced my fair share of limited opportunities for people of color, gentrification of the city, and oppression. I decided to write a poem about being at a networking event and  I attended in which I was one of few people of color in attendance and when the liquid courage was served this conversations came about. 

Now, I am no Nikki Giovanni, Amiri Baraka or Langston Hughes but I am Andrea C. Imafidon! I am somebody special in which I have the courage to share with my readers. I also love wordplay and rhymes, hence why I am such a Hip Hop Head and blogger. I can be free with my words and thoughts in my writings. I guess you can say, I love being completely naked and transparent with my thoughts and writings. I remember writing my first poem in middle school entitled, "A Mother and Her Womb". The poem was dedicated to my mother and I's tight knit relationship from conception to the time I wrote that poem and dedicated to her. 

Being the coach that I am, the moral to the blog post is....be you. Be authentic and free, there is no right nor wrong way to be you. If you have a hidden talent, gift or strength don't suppress it. Share it with the world so you can continue to let your light shine! Keep shining!

Ramblings of Cocktail Parties and Urbanology

You see I am the product of the Northern migration, parents first generation out of the Jim Crown era, 

segregated ruins and Black Power brewing mentality.

Boston, historically tried to cover it’s racial ties by allowing people of color opportunities by enforcing 

integration in the F’ed up, all white, all Irish, South Boston, where White Boys had your head rocking 

and rolling if you stepped foot over that Dorchester/South Boston city line.

Now while I was coming up in the 80s, my parents instilled in me great work ethics, being hard 

working is a blessing. Getting the best education and shutdown the rambling of White Americans, 

cocktail party talks.

While drinking scotch on the rocks, mouths half way cocked open, patiently awaiting the next ghetto 

sob story from the collections of their urbanology.

Bob, “which underprivileged Negro did you help out today?” 

While the drinks are flowing and the stories of the ghetto are spoken, mouths and eyes wide opened 

trying to express apathy meanwhile poking fun of the ghetto catastrophe.

We can turn the ghetto catastrophe into a gentrified masterpiece. Tear down projects, drive up the 

cost of the property market.

Change the name of the communities, we don’t want to be stigmatized by the plight of the dark, 

gloomy community.

We must keep our schools and communities free from profanity and impurities.

We created the "Land of the Free", which only applies to those few and in between

People of color you already provided enough browning to our nation.

We can use our White Privilege to bully our way through gentrification.

You should thank us for plowing through and savaging your ghetto heaven.

These are the ramblings of cocktail parties and urbanology. 

by Andrea C. Imafidon

Coaching Question: Do you contemplate about writing but feel your words, thoughts or story isn't good enough? Remember there is no right or wrong way to write. Just write and be free!