Day 370… February 6, 2011

But what I didn’t tell you…?

Is that she is me

So when I found out about her

I found out about she

I knew she was in there

Waiting to be birthed forth

And even with the sketchy conception

Kept my eyes headed to the north

Slay bells, did those who neglected to pray

And even when I spoke, they refused to give ear

To the words that tempted my soul to unleash

Nearly 3 decades of everything I feared

What would I do with the sum of my woman

Who could I run to, when he ran away

Why should I hold on to an unseen seed

And how would I keep she alive day to day

Barely keeping myself

And at the helm of transition

Fought demons who warned me

About this most powerful commission

The she in me

Is now me in she

But what I didn’t tell you

Is that she is me.

How come ugly girls never get stretch marks? December 15, 2010

There are so many dynamics to being a new mother, that only a new mother would truly understand. 

As my Beautiful Victory approaches 11 months, I have really begun to do more reflecting on her near-first year of life than ever before.  The one aspect of new-mommyhood that has actually been quite emotional is the detachment process.  By detachment, I do not mean going back to work and the baby going to daycare.  Actually that process was quite refreshing, but I’ll save that topic for later.  By detachment I mean all the changes my body has gone through and as a mother, having become attached to those functions that are simply part of having had a baby.

I nursed my baby exclusively for the first 4 months and slowly introduced formula.  So by 6 months, she was both a breastfed and formula-fed baby.  Now that breastmilk is no longer her primary source of food, we have begun to wean each other.  And now nursing seems to have just become comfort, reassurance that mommy is still there, I think.  So my response has been quite emotional.  My body proportions are different than when she was, for example, only 4 months old.  After 11 months and a little bit of exercise, my “pouch” is practically flat.  And there remain the dreaded stretch marks. 

After a conversation with a friend and some self-reflection, this whole process is sooooo amazing that it should never be taken for granted.  While I’ve fretted over the overwhelming feelings of wanting more assistance, limited sleep, new family dynamics, and just simply wanting air and time away from a 2-footer; I’ve noticed that all that has been part of this process and I’ve been able to create ways to detach from those outcomes.

But how does one detach from breastfeeding?–the most natural and normal form of feeding and bonding that any human could experience since the beginning of time.  It is interesting.  And I would dare to say that there is no real process.  It will happen on its own.  There may be crying (for the mommy:); wonderment about “what’s next?” and all such related things. 

I have come to just say “so what?”  All that is perfectly O.K.  I mean, what else can you really do about your body being this eco-system of life and then try to force yourself to do or be someone differently?  I’ve decided not to fret.  Beautiful Victory is a healthy baby and, after 1 day of daycare, proved that with all the mommy-changes taking place, she is healthy and open to a new experience of socialization.  Part of THAT process, breaking away from mommy, physically, in a healthy way so that she, too, can have new experiences. 

And as for the ugly girls with no stretch marks?  That was a friend’s/mommy’s FB status I read recently and thought it was actually kinda funny.  I mean, I wouldn’t consider myself unattractive, but I do have the mommy battle scars.  So I guess once the breastfeeding is over; daycare in place; family dynamics at ease; stretch marks or not, I still have a healthily attached and detached baby and can, myself feel accomplished as a new mother of only 1 year.

December 7, 2010

At least two of my friends have commented to me that it is a great thing that I have been able to enjoy my daughter’s life to this extent as a stay-at-home mommy. 

So I’ve thought about that for a while.  And I am realizing that, however planned or unplanned, this 10 months of Beautiful Victory has been an amazing ride.  See, before she was even “thought of,” I had conversations that “I can’t wait to meet my daughter.”  Who knew that in less than a year after that single statement, I would be getting to know her, in the flesh.  She has been my little angel; my rock; my love; and my best friend.  She is beautiful, and to know that she came from me, is just an amazing thing only understood by a mother.  I haven’t many words for today’s blog post, except that I am grateful, however my life has come about to this date, for my life.  It could not have been done any other way.  The most struggle I’ve experienced has not been financial–contrary to suspected beliefs.  No, in fact, I’ve come to terms with money-we have an understanding.  I need it and it comes running.  Ha!  The greatest challenge has been establishing (or re-establishing) my values, and what is (now) most important. 

The pregnancy was the best and greatest challenge and excitement and spiritual experience ever.  And now that the life is here, those things I learned and understood and gained and even threw away, are here, face to face.  My needs have been taken care of for a year and a half now, and I have not always been employed.  I uprooted my life and living to pursue a dream, pursued it, and now onto bigger, better, or just–things.  I have not had to drop the baby off at daycare at the crack of dawn because mommy has to rush off to work…at least not yet:)  And for that I am grateful.  She has not missed a single day of diapers, wipes, clothes, food, bathing.  And for that I am grateful.  She has not had health risks face her yet-developing body (because I had not always been insured).  And for the occasional runny nose, I am grateful.  She does not reject me, breastfeeding, behaviorally, or otherwise.  And for that I am grateful.  And probably the greatest thing (often mistaken by society as a weak trait among humans), is that she needs me.  As much as the need to be needed gets lost on me; I am grateful that she needs me.  She is a reason to wake up in the morning.  She is a reason to want to live life.  She is a reason to want to be at optimum health.  She is a reason to want to define who I am.  She is a reason to be selective about who enters my life and how.  She is a reason to laugh everyday and only wipe away tears of joy that she brings.  She is a reason to finally figure out the best hair product for mommy, because we have the same hair.  LOL. 

 What I didn’t know then, I know now and am open to learning.  I am glad that I have finally met my daughter.   That is all.

(Labor) November 25, 2010

With all my genius

I allowed a penis

To open me up and release in me a love child…

Not the flower power

But more Babel’s tower

For only God could have meant for her to be here…

And so I warred in the spirit

With the soul of the y-chromosome

Only to come up empty-hearted

But not broken

Mending actually from a wound

That wasn’t really that deep

A history that wasn’t that profound

But just enough to create she who is here now

And so I still go to war

Refusing to be confused

But simply wanting for her

To have what I did have

And what he didn’t have

And so no one tells you how to deal–except society

The white wig, black-robed, Bible-toting, gavel-hammering system

That says, “You don’t know how to be parents,

And so let me show you.”

Then Mr. Y-Chromosome

Steada forging through

Ends it with the weakest declaration ever:

“I DON’T WANT TO BE WITH YOU!”

And in retrospect, I dare to inquire

What does that have to do with meeting your girlfriend

Who doesn’t want to have anything to do with my mini-me?

So, no, NOT the end of me.

I continue to labor

Not for his heart–

I resigned that job long ago to be exact;

But for the oneness that society says unwed parents should not share

And call it fetal assistance

In the instant

Bondage…

A garnished cent

Never meant

To occur through a system

That in 2 months will tell you, you must never quit your (labor).

And unlike your soldiers that came and set up camp in my womb

You will no longer know where the fruits of your (labor) go…

THIS is the monster you created.

Feel Like Winter? November 21, 2010

The last time I blogged was approximately 3 months ago.  Since then I have experienced yet another change or transition.  I relocated my life and baby, once again, back to Chicago, Illinois.  Unable to afford the cost of living between 2 states, I decided to drive the 30 hour distance in order to get my baby here and establish her family.  By establish, meeting her father and my family.  Yes, her father.  In the past 3 months, I have attempted to reckon the compromise of life.  As having had my father present in my life all of my life, that relationship for my daughter is of the utmost importance.  And since being back “home,” my trueness to that statement has been tested.  Many have asked, “Are you moving  back to LA?” “Are you two gonna be together?” ” Where will you live?”  “What are you gonna do for money?” and the list goes on and on and on and on.  And I have stuck to my guns through many outside attempts to find a crack in my story.  I am here because I need to be here for love and support of my family and so that my daughter and her father can have a relationship, if he had in fact expressed sincere desire for that.  So far, it has been expressed.  And he too, has officially questioned my motive.  In fact, not only questioned it, but answered it as well. 

Winter is on its way.  And so with all these looming inquiries about my intentions, I dare to question everyone else’s intentions about MY life and my daughter’s life.  As a new mother, am I required to have all the answers for those who question me?  I take my life and my daughter’s life one day at a time.  And many times, the days overlap because the stress of being a mother (whether happy or challenging) can be overwhelming, and furthermore, the stress of being a mother with my child’s father in tow, is the cherry on top of the stress sundae.  Am I supposed to be comfortable allowing all humans beings into my child’s life because they express desire to be there?  Am I supposed to go against the basic intuitive laws of a mother’s nature and place my child in what I perceive as possible danger because checking out the territory for myself?  Am I supposed to rush to get a job just because the world says that the single mother is supposed to be able to do it all, as if being a mother is not full time and overtime enough and underpaid and underappreciated enough? Am I required to trust anyone who has carefully crafted a life out of a lie and the only reason the truth came out is because it was forced out, like a pressure cooker, and ignore my mother’s nature of intuition that “something’s just not right?” 

Well, frankly, I am exhausted of your and everyone else’s desire for me to negate the truth just to uphold the lies that have already been clearly exposed.  Since I have taken responsibility for my actions, I do not intend to reverse my state of being.  If nothing else, I have learned and understood the test of integrity, which some question if I have passed or failed.  Well, when a woman having passed the test of integrity states her intentions, it would seem that she would be trusted, no questions asked.  And so from here on, I have proven myself, I have lived up to my words, my standards, and my requirements as a mother, to love and nurture life (and to that end as a new mother, the best that I know how).  If anyone has a question for any of that, I do not have answers and I will refuse to answer. 

I would hope that the appropriate people are reading this blog.  And if you have any questions, please scroll back up and take another read.

Good day friends.

——-

That was an unedited and unposted excerpt from this summer.  Since that stressful period of “family integration,” things have surely taken turns unexpected and finally, settled to where it is today.  Beautiful victory is now 9 months old with a personality all her own, except for maybe the “stank” faces, that may or may not have been influenced by me.  On this day, I continue to enjoy being a mother, all the more, having accepted the journey to define my own values, spiritually, family, materially, emotionally, and otherwise.  They have certainly been tested, questioned, and even ultimately authorized by me.  But now that I have settled into this person that I am going to be for a very long time…I LOVE IT! Part of my values include living life with no regrets.  This means that whatever decisions I’ve made to date, with whatever information I had available at the time to make them, was meant to be exactly that.  No stress and no sweat off my brow.  I LOVE being a family, whatever that looks like right now.  It’s beautiful. 

So finally, I’ve decided not to let anyone define who I am, who I want to be, or who I will become.  Living in the moment is so much more powerful than that.  And I hope that you and anyone else who influences your life directly is living like 9 month-old “Beautiful Victory….in the moment with no regrets.

Forgiveness—Giving up the hope that the past could have been any different (Oprah Winfrey).  I forgive you and your active response to my prayer lets me know that you’ve forgiven me as well.

Love exponentiated,

Jacinta

Sex Tape Era and the Socialite May 28, 2010

You know, it really disturbs me that as a young woman under 30, the media has OK’d sex tapes as a valid way to receive recognition (aka fame).  Perhaps you think I’m super conscious now because I have a daughter, but I am a daughter and a woman and I am pretty much getting tired of hearing about the “scantily clad” who made it by simply being scantily clad or not clad at all.  If I read about another woman who has used the panniedrawls to get where she’s trying to get, I’m going to burn my own bra just because this whole “women’s rights” bull-ish has taken a wrong turn.

Ok, so it’s no secret that I model.  I have been asked many times would I ever strip or pose nude or do a porno.  My response is often well thought out for many different reasons; some of those being:  image, reputation, and self-respect.  And oftentimes, the askers of said questions reveal through their curiosity that what they think of as being a model is not my idea of being a model or even why I do it.  First, let’s be clear.  After years of defining myself as a model and justifying why I do it in the face of the “saints,” family members, friends, and essentially the world, I have come to simply be ok with “representing beauty inside and out, and for me this covers socially, emotionally, mentally, spiritually, and physically.  It is more important to me to be holistically healthy and obvioiusly intelligent than to compromise what, to ME, are core values that will likely never change and that, at this point, I will hope to pass on to my daughter.  There was a point when the “saints” (not all, but a few) shunned my dream to model because of all the makeup involved (we all know that old time religion) and their viewpoint that all I would do was prance around scantily clad hoping to be captured in the perfect position by the photographer who will probably be a pervert anyway.  Well thanks be unto God, I’ve never EVER encountered that man or that situation and was allowed to make my decision to be “active” or not.  No one took that from me.

So this speaks to mentally and spiritually.  As having been raised in the church (which I shall blog about in later sessions:) and having a family that has instilled in me structure, discipline, and at least basic values, I’d like to believe that I am spiritually balanced.  I learned at least a bit of my ability to be intuitive at an early age.  And with a father who has truly been a FATHER to his daughter, I’d also like to believe that I have a bit of the game in tact.  So if it sounds fishy, then it is fishy, period.  And it is up to me to decide if I’m going to offer my bait (my body and soul) to that sea of unforgiveness or keep it moving to the next legitimate job.

I recently explained to my mother that social sites like Facebook have this innate quality of making its users feel famous.  I mean, I’m guilty too.  Why else would I post pictures of my modeling portfolio for the www dot to see if I didn’t appreciate the positive feedback and love from the sea of knowns and unknowns.  So what about the sex tapes? And why is being a socialite soooo friggin important?

I feel like people are making themselves important with no cause.  And it strikes me as interesting that the new-age socialites have so much image/celebrity power and do not use it to the world’s advantage.  Instead they would rather take a round-about road to stardom through a demeaning vehicle of publicized sex, hope to repair their image publically, and then call themselves famous forrrr…? IDK.  As an educated woman of 2 degrees, several side jobs, and a pretty beefy resume to prove my worth on this earth, I take offense that my years of hard work is now comparable to a 3-minute neck and back session.  Fast fame with hard work? Acceptable. (i.e. American Idol).  But the sex tape era is disgusting and I wish it would just be over before my daughter can crawl.

Please and thank you.

Jeans and T-shirts May 19, 2010

After taking a writing break in between yet another transition and stability, I was inspired today by a friend to write about “changes” as today’s topic of the blog.  Today, May 19th, is the birthday of Malcolm X…an individual who was all about change.  This blog won’t be about him, but I felt it necessary to honor the honorable. So Happy Birthday Mr. X.

I recently moved out of my first apartment that I moved into after relocating to Los Angeles for a new life.  Herein lies the transition.  I have experienced some of thee greatest changes in my life in the simple matter of one 365-day period.  Pregnancy, motherhood, career, spiritual, social changes all at once.  I love the definition of my life right now.  Having a baby and being a mother have caused me to only seek out the simple in life.  Although one might think that I was chasing Hollywood when I pursued the change, I realized that not only was I NOT pursuing “Hollywood” but I don’t even want it,  at least not in the light that everyone thinks is so attractive and necessary.  I was actually pursuing myself.

My bills have simplified to a few necessities; my need for luxury has been eliminated; and my desire to be the best person possible (both independent of AND dependent on someone else) is of the utmost importance.  After not being able to wear my old clothes for nearly a year of my life, I so want a new wardrobe.  And so one might think that the model in me requires me to be some bonafide fashionista.  I beg to differ.  Jeans that fit my new shape and shirts that accomodate my new need for accessibility (aka breastfeeding) is all that I require and desire these days.

My connection to God and all things spiritual has been heightened and enlightened throughout this experience.  My holistic health is so essential that being in tune with the spirit world is top priority.  However one might define that world is, in my new opinion, contingent upon who you are and need to be in order to access the spiritual.  After justifying and defending my pregnancy and the right to womanhood for nearly a year now, my access to the spiritual means being in tune with my body; my relation to the necessary players in my life; the realness that I have and must possess for the sake of my own sanity; and the continued toothless happiness of the most vulnerable of life…my daughter.

Jeans and t-shirts are more than sufficient for my new mobility in life.  And you can add a pair of fly earrings to that as well.

Welcome life!

Happy Mother’s Day, Mr. Malthus May 10, 2010

“Are you askin’ me to be a bridesmaid n****?!…a BRIDESMAID?!!!”  My favorite comedian, Cedric the Entertainer, joked at the state of affairs concerning social issues that affect us all.  He laughed, explaining that we all know that issues such as gay rights are very present and very real, but sometimes we are forced to have an opinion about those issues when we really would rather not represent an opinion either way or we have not yet decided which opinion we would like to endorse.  This joke was referring to a gay cousin of his who had asked him to participate in his wedding ceremony.

I found out I was pregnant just as I was making plans to move to a new city and start a new life, as a professional model, officially with no strings attached to anything else irrelevant.  One conversation that stuck out and continues to come to the forefront of my values, even as I am currently the mother of a beautiful 3 month old daughter, is my “choice.”  Throughout my pregnancy, I made a ritual of researching new topics for the purpose of getting informed and knowledgeable about things that will affect my life and my child’s life later.

Planned Parenthood of America was founded by Margaret Sanger (1879-1966), and originally known as the American Birth Control League (ABCL).  Sanger’s followers and advocates included those who also supported the Malthusian Eugenics movement.  This part of history is rarely spoken of, or even taught, in present-day learning circles.  Eugenics was the movement whose philosophy was based on racial cleansing of the “unfit,” namely inclusive of people of African origin, further endorsed by Thomas Robert Malthus, British scholar of political economy and demography.  Of course today, Planned Parenthood is the place to go to for birth control education and options, including abortions.  Now this is not to write off Mrs. Sanger as a bad person in history; her career began as one who spoke and sought to educate women about their options for  birth control.

Sanger’s “Negro Project” was created to restrict the black population through racial purification, essentially eliminating people of African descent.  Today, the relevant social issues are pro-life and pro-choice.  And we as Americans are supposed to choose an opinion.  Well, until I was pregnant with my own choice did I realize that the choice had already been made for me.  It was just a matter of entertaining the opinions of those who deemed it necessary to entertain.  None short of being a church girl, I cannot specifically validate my decision based on my upbringing.  But I have come to realize that the argument was not mine to have.  My issue of unplanned pregnancy is not to be mistakenly aligned with abort or not abort.  My more dominant conflict was the antagonism of those who’s opinion on right to life, really meant to scrutinize me for simply giving life and mistaking that natural ability with choosing life.  If my daughter was to be born, she would be without my assistance to eliminate her life.

The statistics on Black baby abortions tend to lean toward a disproportionate number when compared to other races of people.  Now, of course, we all know that Black anything is always disproportionate according to statistics, but when it comes to procreation and the lack of education regarding the history of race purification, it makes me wonder how dead Margaret Sanger and Thomas Robert Malthus really are.

“Woe this crazy circumstance; I knew [her] life deserved a chance; But everybody told me do be smart; Look at your career they say; [JC] baby use your head; But instead I chose to use my heart…” (To Zion, Lauryn Hill).

The late Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. was awarded the Margaret Sanger award on May 5, 1966.

(The Negro Project:  Margaret Sanger’s EUGENIC Plan for Black Americans, http://www.blackgenocide.org/negro.html)

Straw Sombreros and Bueno Hair… May 7, 2010

I was recently stopped on my way into Target by Channel 22 Spanish TV’s reporter Diana Alvarado. She asked if I would be interested in discussing my views on the recent issue of Arizona and immigration. I had not read or heard too much about it until that date, but after speaking with a close friend about the basics, it seems I had enough of the gist of it to have an opinion about it. (Not to mention how cool would it be for my and my baby’s TV debut to be on Spanish television speaking English?-HA!).

Diana asked me how I felt about the immigration bill in Arizona; if I had any friends of hispanic decent; and loosely, if there are issues that concern me as it relates to hispanic race relations in America.

I surprised myself with my on-the-spot response, but realized soon enough that my first response is usually my intuitive response with no apologies to follow.  I was surprised because my response was not my normal borderline racist statements about immigrants going back to their country and how “we” have earned our right to be in this country.  Just about a month ago, I traveled up the coast to Santa Barbara for an audition.  En route, I was shocked to see to my right a group of what I perceived to be Mexican workers wearing straw hats, in the field picking crops and loading trucks.  Being only a few generations removed from slavery, I am not sure how I exactly felt about this sighting, but the discomfort in my soul was relatively unsettling.  I compromised the feeling with the thought of, “Well, somebody’s gotta do it.”

After being completely born and bred in the great city of Chicago, Illinois, I have now, as an adult living in a city where another race of people is the dominant population, come to realize that my views on race have been largely based on my life in a specific geographic location. In America, where segregation is still a very vivid part of life, it is sometimes complicated to see anything outside of what that way of life and institutional systemic ideologies have done to me and “my people.”

However, in my interview with Diana Alvarado, I was unashamed to say that immigrants have just as many rights in this country as any American-born citizen. The days of racial profiling are over, or at least need to be. Perhaps if our country was built on honesty and a true doctrine of standard governmental policies, then it might be fair to stop a brown person and judge him or her based on the color of skin. But considering that I AND my daughter are brown people, I believe it is absolutely unacceptable to treat ANY person unfairly based on skin color or country of origin.

The truth is I don’t know where I’m from. I was told Africa, but Africa is a huge place. And the world of brown skinned people even larger. So who’s to say that I’m even of African descent? I could very well be from central America or any other brown part of the world.

Up to the point of my interview with Ms. Alvarado, it seemed easy to write off other groups of people because I have a “right” to be here. But the truth is, anyone that has been “let into” this country has every right to be here as I do.

The only thing I ask is that when I call into my insurance company or other agencies with whom I conduct regular business, I would like to hear English as the first language, NOT Spanish or any other tongue not native to this country. And personally, I would not like to marke dose, but suffice it to say what about 3 for Japanese, 4 for French, 5 for Polish, etc. (You get the point).  See, on the flipside of this issue is that there are many ancestors who fought for the right to literacy and education for “my people.”  So I must honor that.

I am not trying to become Jesse Jackson or Al Sharpton up in this piece, but I do believe it is time out for America’s sorry excuse of a melting pot, when we all know it’s been more like a tossed salad since forever.

I’m a….a Diva… May 6, 2010

Who told you you were a diva?  If it took a song for you to realize it, then perhaps that persona is not for you.  As a matter of fact, diva had a negative connotation prior to its present celebrity as a “female version of a hustla.”  I live in a geographical location where age is nothing but a number, so I can tell you I’m 19, and you either believe it or not.  If you’ve ever gone through serious transitions in your life, then you definitely will feel this blog.

I once despised the word diva, until Jay-Z’s wife redefined it.  And I never thought of myself as a hustla until I realized that I take more after my G of a dad, than my coolrelax mom.  Everything I do and have done has been on the strength of a hustle, whether its making handbags to get paid, getting a degree, a 2nd degree, or working 9-5, then modeling 6-10, writing 11-1, sleeping and then waking up to do it all over again.  The unfortunate part is that I only ever wanted to do the 6-1 shift, and the 9-5 portion was just to afford the 6-1 lifestyle.  Fun times!

Now here I am in transition.  I’m a mother, and even with this newfound title AND freedom, this is primetime for my 6-1 shift.  I’ve always wanted the opportunity to choose my next direction.  Here it is and I have no clue where to go.   Some may say pray about it, but I learned if you pray, why worry?  And I believe that if you pray once, God in his infinite and omniscience doesn’t need to hear it again.  I have several relationships in my life right now: existing, pending, growing, strengthening, and wasting away all at one time.

The relationship with myself and with my daughter have come to an intersection, codependent on one another.  Without her I am not myself and without me, she can’t be herself.  So we live for each other.  If I am not happy, then I have no power to commit happiness to her.

On the morning of the day of my first fashion show, post Siri, I listened to “Diva” as I got ready for the big night.  And I secretly hoped the song would play as I strutted down the runway…with a big golden flower in my hair, I slow-walked Diva and took my own photo shoot  at the bottom of the runway.

The ability to claim happiness through word and thought is so fascinating that I firmly believe in its power.  And so now, tonight, I claim happiness.  No longer about a 9-5, but the 6-1; the fun times of doing what makes me happy and what my entire life and the health of all those relationships will be contingent upon; most importantly, the relationship with myself through which the relationship with my seed evolves.

“Stop the track; let me state facts…I told you give me a minute and I’d be right back…”

LOL.  Follow the blog…I’m just getting started…