Category Archives: daughters

future woman leader, my sister Kayla

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My sister, Kayla, loves to sing. I like that her hobbies are singing, dancing and she can paint and draw. When she grows up, she will give the world her gift of singing to everyone. When my sister sings, it makes people feel happy.

Everyone should have a sister like her because when people pick on me at school she protects me. She plays with me every time I’m sad. She loves me and she is smart and playful and nice.

Written by Kyra

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some days i feel like air, for kayla

all month I have been writing prose to acknowledge women that have directly influenced my life and perception on living as an artist. this week, I have decided to let these little women that are living in my home to write and express for one another and for women that they want to share information on.

next up is the middle girl, kayla. my mini me. my virgo. my cuddler.

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kayla is about patience. to love her you need it. she requires it. my sensitive, emotional little lady. she has always required attention, never the one to watch Dora the Explorer alone while you washed dishes. if you were in the kitchen, she was in the kitchen! if you were in the study room, she was in the study room! if you were in the bathroom she was waiting for you in the hallway! I usually stay up late to write and she would get up early, like most kids, so I would lock my bedroom door to get some extra sleep. this chick picked my lock one morning and got in! YES YOU HEARD ME! (haha)

I don’t recall kayla every drawing outside of the lines when she began to color. if she did color outside, it was her creating a totally different picture. she has always been meticulous. my mother hums and sings all the time and kayla has picked this up. she sings walking down the hall, in the shower, riding her bike… and she is a dancer. kayla is no doubt my artist.

she is also my follower. remember, she has never liked being by herself. God made her this way so I just have to continue to encourage her to trust her talents and what her heart is telling her. I believe she is so talented, she doubts herself just to fit in with everyone else. she is a gentle little woman, very giving and shy. not to toot my horn, but I really feel she mirrors me in a lot of ways. she is my art show award winning, talent show singing, honor roll having middle girl. not to the left, not to the right. just in between flowing to and fro, kayla.

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future woman leader, my sister Kyra

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My youngest sister, Kyra, loves to sing, run and play with us. I like that some of her hobbies are dancing, singing and mainly running. She runs everywhere she goes! When she grows up, she will give the world the gift of being a famous, fantastic Olympic track and field player. She will be in the 100 meter race and will be able to compete in the summer Olympics in 2024.

Everyone should have a sister like her because she is very playful, smart, fun to be around,and she acts like the big sister when I’m feeling blue. I love my sister very much. I would do any thing for her. I hope she makes it to the summer Olympics.

Written by Erika:
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some days i feel like, attallah shabazz

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the oldest child. the one who clearly remembers. I am the one who appears to have “kept it together”. the one sought for direction and clarity.

Attallah Shabazz is the daughter that can silence a crowd with her commanding beauty and strikingly visible resemblance to her father, Malcolm X. Attallah became the artist to this family that was thrown in the political arena. She is a lecturer, playwright, director, producer and performer. She mirrors her art to her father’s message to continue to elutriate ill perceptions. She has found her own voice to preach her own gospel of human rights and self-esteem.

In an interview, Attallah speaks of having coloring books and reading books that depicted persons from black history. She continued, “So when I went to school and parts of me were omitted from history books, I knew the hole wasn’t in me, it was in the books.” Some days I feel like Attallah Shabazz because even though I learned the hole wasn’t me later in life… when I did find out, my art began a path that had a natural commitment to preserving my community and its’ vernacular.

more memories to create!

Since I have made friends with other moms I learn of the little things they do to create sweet memories for their children.  Over the past couple of years I have had several friends tell me about “Elf on the Shelf.”  So you send a letter to the north pole and request  an elf or several stuffed elves to visit your house for a specific time.  Every morning your kids wake up and search for the elf in the house as it has done different “fun” things around your house.  I am planning for the holidays now and suggested getting one for my nieces… THEY HAD A FIT!

What was I thinking?  These are the same girls that flipped out about the tooth fairy coming in their room while they are sleeping!  And actually when I thought about it, who wouldn’t be afraid of the tooth fairy?  (Come on, the thought of someone sneaking in your room while you are sleep and reaching under your pillow… yep… I can’t blame them for being freaked out!)  I told them about the elf on the shelf and they were intrigued and interested until they heard that the elf would be doing stuff in the house while they are sleep.  ABSOLUTELY NOT!  I found this conversation to be so hilarious!  The oldest girl vowed a solid, “NO”, the middle girl is afraid but curious and the youngest girl is game to go because she knows her sisters will protect her.

It’s all about creating memories right?  RIGHT!  I went on amazon.com and ordered my elf on the shelf for the 2013 holidays!  Of course I’ll post the adventures of “elf on the shelf” when they begin in November!

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One Day White Woman

As clear and high standing

as that evening table chandelier

be that woman’s candle of insecurities if she be

pssssttt at again / or danced about to a funky beat

And then this woman / who agreed it would be ok to die quickly

if she could be beautiful for just 10 years

no vegan / no fast

keeping everything out help her skin stick to her bones at last

caged inside foul swallowed down upchoke

she dare not speak out in skin cancer’s name

cause she don’t like her skin tone either

but she agreed it was okay to die quickly if she could be

beautiful for just / 10 years.

Even though I love my mama to re-birth and heavens

some love the white woman enough to vacuum out the fats that God gave

to protect the baby in the womb and the hips to carry them bye bye.

But we continue to eye each other down

cause you’re sick and tired of me and my sister girl walk / like

I’m sick and tired of you and your valley girl talk

now / we begin to eye down Asians and Latinas but quickly dismiss them from the game

cause this war be ours / black woman against white woman

you love the way I look  / I love the way you look

so who said we had to hate eachother?

you love me thick lips / like I love your thin waist

so you shape your new breasts to be as perky as mine

and I straighten my hair like yours time after time

…. if we love each other so much

maybe one day /

I’ll love me enough to help you teach men and the world that you are a

beautiful white woman / short legs, long torso, flat ass, thin lips, thin hair

beautiful /        beautiful.

and maybe one day you’ll love you enough

to help me teach men and the world that I am a

beautiful black woman / long legs, short torso, fat ass, thick lips, thick hair

maybe one day / white woman.

excerpt from One Day White Woman copyright 2005 Nikki Skies

Five Ways to Re-Member Yourself

The alarm goes off on your nightstand.  You hit the snooze button, stay in the bed and begin to race your entire day through your head.  ‘Take a shower, the iron is in the basement so wear something that doesn’t need ironing, wear sandals today (wait, how is your toenail polish?), gloss or lipstick today?’  All these thoughts come to the front of the day and then a knock on your bedroom door… ‘Can I come in?  Can we have French toast for breakfast?  Can I use your phone charger?  Do I have to go to swim class today?’   Now your priorities have shifted once again… and you still aren’t out of the bed.

This is the typical day for any single working mom.  And in my case, a writer/artist and newly active aunt of five.  My life became guided with demands and needs from other people.  I had to abandon my “in the spur of the moment” lifestyle and be more proactive.  I now had to plan meals (actually write a grocery list), wash loads of clothes, comb four heads instead of one, add teachers, guidance counselors and coaches to my speed dial and so much more.

I recall one of the first days a cousin of mine volunteered to get everyone out of the house.  I sat on the couch and couldn’t think of the first thing to do for myself.  I could’ve written two pages worth on what I needed to do for the kids.  Believe it or not, it actually took me some time to figure out what I should do with myself while the kids were away and I found myself writing some of my former past times in my journal.

So, when you get that afternoon or evening alone and want to clear your head and escape all of your “to do’s” for everyone else, try these five things to re-member yourself.

(5) Pay back to get back!  Be conscious and in the moment and give sincere compliments to total strangers.  Their immediate and genuine eye contact with you will be very connecting.  Additionally, on the back end you’ll get compliments in return when you least expect it.

(4) Get lost in a bookstore or even the local library.  Look through the pages of your favorite authors new book.  Pick up a magazine and be entertained with the latest fashions and/or entertainment news.

(3) Find a bench and people watch.  You still get a lot of motion around you but you are not involved.  Enjoy some ice cream while doing this!

(2) Take a long bath.  Make it aromatherapy and add your favorite oil.  Pop in your favorite cd to add to your relaxation.  And don’t be afraid to put your head under the water!

(1)  Call a friend and talk for hours.  Share what has been going on in your life and seek advice.  And don’t forget to laugh and drop the phone and pick it back up and laugh some more! 😉

Kenny the Leo

my hand ached.  my right hand gripped the pen with mission.  I had to write down everything he was telling me.  can’t miss a single adjective because I had not been there and he would not be here.      /soon

jake or jacque?  what tribe in Oklahoma?  who is still there?  do we have land?  where is your mother buried?

‘nik, memorize the smells and sounds’,    ok… slight hint of ben gay is embedded on his heating blanket, his body reeks of medicine excreting from every pore, … I smell water…

his face / his face, looks so worried when the doctors enter the room.  his eyebrows raise with storyline spaces for someone to hear him until the end.  he wants his bible near by and his playstation on the television screen.  (some army game, the name escapes me right not)  still so tender towards me, he entertains everything except my conversations of him barbecuing in the summertime.  he never says it from his mouth, but his eyes tell me / beg me… accept he is leaving soon.

so I write the secrets he kept even from his brothers.  I write about the alcoholism.  I write about the child abuse.  I write about the abandonment.  I write about his mother’s beating with a black jack.  I write about the robbery.   I write about the players ball.  I write about the love he never lost for my mother.  I write about his fears of being a father to me.

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I write about his girlfriend with the snake.  I write about Tall Mike.  I write about his grandmother’s pet ducks.  I write he never speaks of his father.  I write he never speaks of the shooting.  I write about the look in his eyes when I finally mention his father’s name, Big Kenny.  I write about him overcoming paralysis and living a life he loved.  I write about his voice cracking when he mentions how often he thought of me.  I write the definition of dead beat dad.  I write it doesn’t fit him.  I write he was afraid I would be mad at him.  I write how proud he was of my books and poetry cd.  I wrote until after his funeral… then stopped.  and cried.

my dad was true to his word and true to his heart.  viewed selfish by some but he passed with no fear or regrets.  he has given me a great story.  he has given me beautiful cheek bones.  he has given me a golden smile. he has given me an example to live true to my heart.  Kenny the Leo.