Faith, Hope, and Love

I do not like the term "African-American." Or at least, I do not like it when it is used to refer to my demographic or ethnic background. Yes, I am African. My parents are Nigerians, and I am the first in my family to be born in America. But the term African-American comes with a lot of historical and cultural connotations that I do not share or carry as part of my identity, and it feels wrong to claim something that I am not. Let me backtrack... On Thursday, I was volunteering at a conference when my friend Latasha Morrison asked me to be a part of a racial reconciliation panel. I felt woefully unprepared and under-qualified, but I sent a quick prayer up that whatever I said would be meaningful and chose to just speak from the heart. For the most part there were a lot of high-level questions I wasn't sure I could speak to. How can we (read: white people) invest time and resources into low-income and minority neighborhoods without causing gentrification? Should...

Over the past few months, there's been a lot of talk about Ebola in West Africa. And this has sparked a lot of responses from Africans, both on the continent and in the Diaspora. It's also sparked a lot of responses from the Western world--many that have felt ignorant and upsetting to me as an African. My biggest pet peeve has been how the media has portrayed it. I was in journalism for a while, and I've always found a strong distaste for articles that were more about sensation than about clear, objective reporting. Most of the articles I've read have promoted ignorance and a "panic" about Ebola versus really presenting the reality of the disease and how it's being handle. An example: West Africa has a lot of countries. And only 4 of those countries have been dealing with Ebola. Two of the four have contained it and it is no longer a problem. Yet all the articles simply just reference "West Africa."  As a doctor, my sister has had lots of th...

"I've been around the world, they say that love is blind, but I love you cause I've seen you a hundred times So amazed at the world that You made"    -- Jimmy Needham, "How Great Thou Art" That's exactly what I think when I reflect on my trip to Peru. From the ocean to the mountains and valleys. The salt mines and ancient ruins. I was constantly in awe of the beauty this world holds. And how can we live in a beautiful world and doubt that there is a God? It's hard for me to fathom because I couldn't help but give glory and worship God as we drove up mountains, took trains and boats along the riverbed, and trekked through the rain forest. Peru is a fabulous place. When I first decided to do this trip, it was solely to see Macchu Picchu. I read some National Geographic article about "Places You Want to See Before It's Too Late," and they implied that the government might shut Macchu Picchu down to help persevere the archa...

All throughout the day, I find myself writing mini-blogs in my head. But somehow these blogs never make it to the actual web. I tend to put things off and then it slips my mind altogether, or feels too late to bother. It's why there was one mega-blog about my California trip, and why there has yet to be any post about my adventures in Peru (they are coming, along with some epic photos). The plan is to do a lot better... especially while I'm in India. I hope to write a few times while I'm there. Well, I actually, I feel honor-bound to write. You see, last year, I did a run for As Our Own . My I put off really training (although I did run about 4+ of the 6+ miles I was supposed to), I put off writing thank you notes to all the people who supported me. And I put off raising money for the mission trip I am about to depart on in a little over a week. Just before Peru, I finally sat down and sent out a few letters to my childhood church families, and then wrote out letters ...

It's so easy for me to put things on the back burner in my life. Even if they are important to me. It's what I've done with playing the piano. Off and on lessons since I was six, a whole year of lessons in college, some months in grad school... and now I'm in group lessons. Am I any good? I wouldn't say so. Which is what frustrated me. And why it is easy for me to put practicing on the back burner. I mean, I'm never going to be a prodigy pianist and I'll probably never wow anyone with my skills with Tchaikovsky. But... I miss playing. Which is why I'm taking lessons again. And while my longing to play might stem from nostalgic memories of Mrs. Potter's home recitals, that longing is still there. Now that I'm taking classes again, I still probably don't practice as much as I should though. Having a roommate made me nervous to play and make mistakes in her presence. And even making mistakes on my own is frustrating and I feel angry and asham...

... I actually am going to try and freelance write/edit. I miss doing both a lot. So, I may not be TFA , but I can still have that #1 sexy career! :) (Funny enough, my first goal is to try breaking into TFA's magazine, One Day . )

I'm 26 years old, going on 27, and I have no clue what I want to be when I grow up.  My first real ambition was to be Anne of Green Gables. Yup, I planned to grow up to be a white Canadian. Such lofty goals, I know. But then, I began to grow up... and wanted to be a lot of other realistic things. I mean, I obviously wasn't going to be the first figure skater to represent Nigeria in the Olympics when I didn't even try on my first pair of ice-skates until I was about 14. And I wasn't going to be a singer or actress if I was too shy (I know, right... me shy?) to actually audition for anyone. (And now, teaching has completely ruined my vocal chords... I constantly have this weird rasp in my voice even when I talk!) But one childhood dream has yet to die.  Well... maybe more than one, since I do want to get married and I still  kind of want six kids. But let's focus on career dreams for today.  I still want to be a writer. And yet, most days I feel l...

I've been asked to blog for two other sites! How exciting is that?! I mean, I've always liked to write, and deep down inside I know I'm a good one. But I'll be honest, I'm plagued with A LOT of insecurity when it comes to the words I put on paper (or online, whatever). I've had friends read my stuff and go, "Wow, that was really good!" and I feel a moment of glee. But then I think, "Well, you know  me. You're my friend. Of course you wouldn't tell me I sucked!" And instantly, I'm refilled with self-doubt about my skills. This year, I had already decided to face my fear and write more . It's why I decided to apply for MFA programs--to stop being scared and finally pursue the career route I've always dreamed I'd take. It's kind of why I decided to start this blog--to force myself to write more often and just put myself out there. Keeping this blog hasn't been easy. There are points when I ask myself why I...

It's Day 4 and I have 971 words. Out of 50,000. I'm about 3 (maybe 4) days behind schedule.  Unlike the dude in the cartoon, I have an idea of what to write about. But since I signed up on a whim, it's been a slow process. Especially since most of my free time is spent hanging out with family and friends. But it's coming along... and at least I'm writing!

I've made a pact to myself to have at least one moment of creativity each day. I generally equated creativity with writing... just because that's what I assume I'm good at. And I guess it's also what I've been struggling with lately. But I've also begun dabbling in photography, and I've been trying to improve my skills on the piano and vocally, and learn the guitar. But mainly, my focus has been writing.  Keeping this blog was supposed to be a way to force myself to write as much as possible. But today, while volunteering at the Ronald McDonald House, a group called Sip 'n' Doodle came out, and I got to paint. And it was sooo much fun! And kind of relaxing. My friend Abbe has told me about Pinot and Picasso in Houston, and I thought it was a cool concept. So I was kind of glad to test it out .. for free, too! :) I will say that I discovered that I'm highly critical of myself. And while everyone else raved about my creation and thought it wa...

Earlier today I decided to be a bit more productive than I usually am after my 4-hour stint at my part-time job and made my way to the bookstore hoping to find some "direction." Ever since I lost my magazine job (and to be honest, even a few months before then), I've been feeling a bit jaded and confused. I'm suddenly wondering if what I always wanted to do with my life is what I'm supposed  to be doing, and asking myself if the profession I've always dreamed of pursing since I was about five-years-old is really for me. What if I'm honestly just no good at it? What if I just thought  I was? I had one day left on my "birthday gift" from Borders (I got a free raspberry-lemony iced tea!), so it seemed like the place to be. In the reference section, I grabbed a Writer's Market hoping to discover a few new avenues and alleys I never thought to walk down before. In the job section, I found "Fired to Hired," which I embarrassingly picked ...