He Was Innocent

Do you want to know what frustrates me the most? Feeling weak. I had an experience today, not even an hour ago that inspired me to write this, hopefully, people will relate and know that they are not alone. 

I went to the roof and the supervisor of the building, male, was sweeping away to dirt that had collected on the concrete. He was doing his job minding his business while I went to sit and read a new book I had just gotten from the library. He stopped sweeping. My heart started thudding in my chest and I texted my best friend to call me out of there. When she didn't answer I texted her uncle. After hanging up I practically bolted down the stairs to our apartment. 

You see, the supervisor did nothing wrong. As I looked back when leaving it turns out he stopped sweeping to answer a phone call of his own. Not once did he look at me strangely, not once did he threaten or make an advance on me. I judged him and because afraid of him for two reasons: he is a man that I do not know and I was alone. If it had been a female I would have been fine, I unconsciously trust females because they normally aren't a danger to each other. 

Being a woman in America in the 21st century may be safer than in the 19th or in another country, but that does not make it easier to be alone with a male stranger. Especially when women get raped and killed by men that they grew up with. I could never imagine that happening to me, but as I was up there trying to read the one reoccurring thought that I had was this, "No one would come up here, no one would hear me and if they did they wouldn't bother. He could definitely overpower me... I need to leave." Even as I thought this I could not bring myself to just leave when I had only got there minutes before. Even when I was threatened without a threat I was thinking he would find me to be rude. I felt that I had to justify my leaving with something important. 

This happens to girls everywhere, we are scared to be judged and we are scared to stay in certain situations. We think that we owe men something, not because we want to, but because as we grew up society continued to tell us how to do things to please a man, make him look good, and support him. But what about us? What about when we need support? I should not be afraid to leave a man alone and feel the need to justify my actions. And neither should any of you. 

Being Different is Okay

Hey, I know that everyone tells you this. That being different is okay, and you should be proud to be unique. I agree, but it is not always easy to accept that you are different from everyone else and I am not going to tell you to embrace your differences, rather I am going to tell you to deal with them.


Being different from your friends and classmates is a tough job and sometimes you may want to give up and just say "fuck it I'll just do what they're doing." And there is absolutely nothing wrong with that. Whether you start drugs because of them, though I would not recommend that, or you dye your hair to fit in; do whatever makes you happy.


I remember that when I was growing up all my close friends were shorter than me, I felt like a giant beside them and even though wearing heels made me feel powerful and strong I never did. I could not be taller than I already was, I could not look any more out of place while I stood next to them.


All my early elementary school and middle school close friends were Caucasian, in other words "white". I am a mix of many different things and I was darker than them. This also made me feel out of place, knowing that I could not change how tall I was, I found a way to become more like them. I stayed out of the sun as much as I could, I put sunscreen on every time I left the house, I looked up different tutorials on how to lighten my skin. I could never be as "white" as them, but I could try, and try I did.


My hair was always a mess. The curly frizziness that I got from my father’s side of the family became yet another flaw in my appearance. I would constantly change my shampoo and conditioner with ones that would help me have silky shiny hair, though they never helped. I used a flat iron more on my hair than I have ever used an iron on my clothing. I would stay up late to straighten it or I would wake up early. If my hair was not straight it would go up in a bun where those hideous curls would never be seen again.


So, no, it is not okay to be different. It is horrible, we all try our hardest to change our opinions and to change our appearance to look like those that we find beautiful. Being the same as everyone is much better, and so much easier. The thing is though, if everyone was the same how would we expand our knowledge of those around us? How would we learn new things and have new experiences? We wouldn't. So, what I want you to do is get it out of your head that being different from those around is okay, because it isn't. It is so much more than okay, it's necessary.

I am Human

One thing I've learned since I began to grow up is that everyone is pretty much all the same on the inside. Yes, some may not have two kidneys, or maybe they have broken ribs, but that's not what I'm talking about. What I'm saying is we don't need to hate on each other. There is no reason to be racist, homophobic, sexists, or anything else that degrades another person. We all come in different shapes, sizes, and colors. We should love each other, not cause problems for each other.

Coming to New York City just some months ago made me realize just how small I am. America is made up of so many different cultures and living in a small town in Michigan didn't allow me to see that from anything besides a TV screen. Being here in NYC has broadened my perspective on what a human is. I've never been one to judge by appearances or culture, but I'll be honest, coming to New York? I was slightly unnerved to see so many different religions and so on. I felt like there wasn't a place that I would find to fit in because everyone's parents seemed to have come from different countries and I and my family were born and raised in the United States.

That thinking has changed of course, now that I'm used to it, now I see just how great it is to be surround by different kinds of people. This brings a whole new definition to the word "human". Human for me meant that we were all the same, but the thing is, why do we even want to be all the same? Why do we have to bring up the fact that we are all the same on the inside in order to feel better about ourselves or our situations? Being human shouldn't be about being the same on the inside, it should be about the ability to be completely different from everyone else.

Your hair is too thick and it is hard to manage, you just wish you could have thinner and more manageable hair, but guess what? That person you're wishing you were? They are wishing to be you, wishing they had thicker hair because theirs is just too boring for them. This is but one example of the many things people go on about every single day! There's this person who is relatively thin, a small amount of curves, absolutely stunning. They wish they could have more definition, or something more than the square shape that they are. There is another person who Is the exact opposite and wishes for themselves to be less. The only thing that helps them see that the other person isn't better is because "We are all the same on the inside".

Stop this mentality! Stop saying that we are all the same on the inside! We should be proud of everything that we have that I different from someone else. If you have curves flaunt them, if you grew up in Africa and moved to the U.S. be happy about it, if your religion is different from your friends don't feel excluded, because the only one who sees you as an outsider is yourself.

I am human because I am different. Not because I am the same.

To be human does not mean that we are all the same on the inside, though it's relatively true, being human means that we are all different on the outside. It's about time that we be proud of it.

I Love the Rain

I remember it like it had been yesterday. My brother and sister were finally asleep and our whole neighborhood was silent save for the roaring thunderstorm bearing on the windows of the trailer.

I walked out of the bathroom and put the brown towel and clean clothes down on the chair by our front door and pulled my socks off of my feet. Taking my hair out of its ponytail, I let my natural curls scrape the fabric of my Grand Valley T-shirt. I then took off my glasses and unlocked the bolt to the door and carefully peeled it open. Stepping out onto the porch and closing the door behind me I stopped to look at the surrounding neighbors homes. After I was sure no one was as crazy as I was, I walked down the steps to the empty driveway picking up my pace as I went under the tree that blocked the path between the two.

Safely in the center of the concrete I spread my arms out and lifted my face to the sky. The rain came down in huge droplets that soaked my hair in no time and made my shorts and baggy t-shirt hang like weights on my body. My heartbeat began to speed up until I felt like the organ was just shy of bursting out of my chest, but still I stood there. I let my anxiety pick up at the thought of a lightning bolt striking down on me. I stood there despite how much the thunder shook the ground; I began to softly laugh to myself in spite of how loud the crack of lightning became when it touched Earth some however miles away from me. I jumped in my skin when the bright blue light shot up the sky and painted the ground around me, but I didn't leave.

After a while of my heart hammering in my chest and the lightning getting brighter by the second I finally had to look down. I couldn't believe that I was, quite literally, staring death in the face because I had nothing to protect me from a bolt crashing into my skull. I don't think I cared though, I couldn't have if I stayed.

Bringing my hands to my face I smiled and rubbed my chilled fingers all over my neck and up my chin. Gently tapping my cheeks to the rhythm of my heart and wiping the raindrops from my eyelashes only for more to make a home there. I started to laugh again when I felt the water around my toes gliding through each and every one. I had never felt so alive in my entire life!

I turned and looked at the telephone pole in my backyard and thought just for a moment that I shouldn't be outside. Another crack erupted the air around me and I looked back up to the sky, thanking God for allowing me to safely enjoy the thrill of being close to death and not having to worry about it. Looking at the grass in front of me I noticed our metal dog chain as it lie helplessly in the soil. I began to step forward when I realized the reality of the situation and thought better of it. Shaking my head I relished in the rain that was warm and cold all at once for just a few more minutes and walked back to the entrance.

Now inside, I stripped my wet clothes off and dried body quietly. Stepping into the fresh underwear and long sleeve shirt I put with the towel before I went outside I gathered just how much I loved the rain.