Letter To My Best Friend

Dear best friend,

So I know it’s been a while,
but I wanted to tell you a little bit about your style.
When I look at you I see a girl who’s been through so much,
Someone who craves love and affection from the lives that you touch.
I know you see yourself as someone so complex that no one can understand
But I think you’d be surprised as to how much you’d open up if you just let someone give you a hand.
You’re one of the strongest women I know,
And I hope you realize all your worries of the past are only here to help you grow.
You avoid emotions because you think it makes you weak,
But facing your problems will give you the peace and clarity you seek
I wish you would give yourself credit when credit is due,
Because you are truly amazing I just wish you could see it too.
You pour so much of yourself into others, I wonder if you leave anything for yourself – do you?
I love you and I know it’s not always easy to admit
But it’s okay to express your feelings and to commit.
Commit to yourself and embrace all of your traits,
Because no matter what you think, people who know the real you see your value, sometimes even when it’s too late.
You’re one of a kind and multitalented.
So beautiful and multifaceted.
I look at you and see how far you’ve come, and I just hope you know that thy will be done.
You’re a dreamer and I admire that about you,
Because you’re also ambitious and I know you’ll make all those dreams come true.
You’re stubborn to a fault but that just means you don’t give up,
Let your persistence overflow and continue to fill your cup.
I know that a hundred years from now when it’s your time,
You’ll leave behind a legacy so profound it won’t matter if you don’t have a dime.
In case no one has told you, I’m so proud of the person that you’ve become
You’re so used to focusing on all that you have not yet accomplished that you’ve become numb.
You’re loved and appreciated by so many I hope that you can see,
You know how to make people laugh and feel good just by being the best that you can be.
When you finally get to see yourself the way others do,
Kick back, relax, and enjoy the view.
You’re always there for me through thick and thin,
I don’t know what I’d do without my bestie, and where I would’ve been.
I want to end by giving you a huge hug and a kiss,
And to remind you that you may not be perfect, but to me you are true bliss.

P.S. I hope that you cherish our friendship forever. Because our relationship will always be, my greatest endeavor.

Love,
Me

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The Pursuit of Happiness

“You okay?” 

“Yea.”

That reply had become so second nature to her it didn’t really matter whether or not it was true. Talking about feelings wasn’t her forte, and she didn’t like it when people started asking questions. She’s come to understand that people mean well, but sometimes things are better left alone.

Alone.

That word was profound to her in so many ways. It’s been the defining part of most of her life — although she knows she’s never actually been alone. She has plenty of friends. She’s had her fair share of relationships. A social butterfly, she made connections everywhere she went, and people seemed to flock to her without any conscious effort on her part. Strangers opened up to her all the time, (sometimes becoming a little too open) even when all she had done was smile at them. Yet, when she laid in bed at night she couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming emptiness. No matter how great life seemed on the surface, she never felt the joy that she’d seen others experience…at least not that she could recall. She’s heard people say that happiness is a choice. She wrestled with this thought constantly but could never quite grasp the concept. Who wouldn’t choose to be happy? Who doesn’t want to feel fulfilled? I mean yes people go through things — things that may feel unimaginably terrifying and never-ending. They experience the pain of loss. Loss of a loved one, loss of a dream, loss of something as trivial yet undeniably needed as money. But some sort of adversity is to be expected, because no one’s life is perfect. Life goes on even if we’re not ready to. People still need to get up and go to work, take care of their children, and most importantly — live their lives. Choose to remain positive and know — or at least hope — that the bad won’t last forever. But is that really choosing to be happy? Or just suppressing the sadness? “Fake it til’ you make it” she tells herself all the time, always failing miserably. Anyone with the ability to read her thoughts would probably feel sorry for her. Hell, they probably wouldn’t even last an hour in her head, wondering how someone can seem so normal — yet be so excruciatingly complicated, emotional, and maybe even a little bit crazy. 

Her problem is that her happiness has always been dependent on the people around her. Her motto is: if the people she loves are happy — then she’s happy. Her friends who are excelling in their careers and/or aspirations. That family member who is finally getting everything they worked for. That ex or crush who’s moved on or just doesn’t reciprocate the same feelings. Wanting happiness for the people she cares for regardless of where she is in her life, or how she feels. All her life she’s been a people pleaser. Never wanting to make anyone angry. Afraid to do or say anything that might make her lose those close to her. Sometimes holding on so tight she ends up losing them anyway. Willing to risk her health, her sanity — to keep others happy. Biting her tongue, swallowing her pride, and sucking it up because it’s not about her — it’s about the people around her. Because isn’t that what life is? Wanting people you love to be happy?

Her definition of love might be jaded — depending on who you ask — but her definition of happiness is definitely biased. What life has taught her about love, has somehow intertwined with her definition of happiness. 

Keep everyone happy and there will be peace. There will be no arguments, no feelings hurt, no one walking out on her. Continue to give all of herself to everyone by any means necessary, until there’s nothing left and she’s left feeling empty. Alone. Until she’s successfully avoided causing any pain, and instead has absorbed it all herself. Until she’s drained of happiness because…she has none left.

She’s become so focused on the people around her, that she’s not even sure she knows what it truly means to be happy. To be loved. To be proud of the person she is, and the woman she has become. To be happy she has people who are there for her. To have people who love her and that haven’t left her. To be happy she’s alive and to be willing to live not for other people — but for herself. 

She realizes that it’s time to allow herself to be happy. To not feel guilt or sorrow for the things she cannot control. To realize that people are human, they make mistakes, and get upset. To understand that maintaining everyone else’s happiness is not only unrealistic, but unhealthy. To know that just loving oneself should be enough happiness to last a lifetime. And learning that you can never truly be happy, until you put yourself first.

“Hey, you okay?”

Her reflection smiles back at her.

“Yea. I’ll be okay. So long as you’re happy, I’m happy.”

Suddenly the word alone brings on a whole new meaning. The true pursuit of happiness. And she’s okay with that.

Copyright 2019 Christiana Parisien

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Mother’s Day 2018

They say that time heals all…
So why is it that after every turn I hit a brick wall?
Every time that I’m about to reach the finish line I stall…
Because how can I possibly walk when I can barely crawl?
The more time that passes the more I feel like I’m going to explode
The more I think of your memories, the bigger the burden, the heavier the load.
The more and more I wish I could hug you everyday and tell you how much I love you so.
The more I wish I could run away…as long as I have you by my side I’m good to go.
So many questions unasked, so many things left unsaid
I miss you so much it hurts, I’d almost rather be dead.
A heart bigger than anyone I know-
I couldn’t understand it then, but now more than ever, I see your legacy continues to grow
But see the older I get the more I feel that I’ve reached an all time low
I’ve had people tell me to “Get over it.”- but they’ve never had a parent leave at 12 years old to protect them… so what the _____ do they know?
I’ve thought so many times about what I’d say if I ever saw you again,
And I feel if I never get the opportunity to- my heart may never be able to mend.
The root of who I am is you
And I think that from the moment you pushed me out- you realized it too.
So many milestones I wished we could’ve shared
Some impossible to celebrate because I just couldn’t bear
I remember my 13th birthday like it was yesterday… man life just ain’t fair.
I question if I can ever again be whole
How can I ever really be myself if I can’t even play the role?
I want more than anything to be at peace,
And for you to know that my love and admiration for you will never cease.
I will never stop searching for you until the day we reunite
Because whether it’s on earth or in heaven I won’t give up without a fight.
Mon coeur,
Mon âme,
Mon amour,
Until we meet again I just want to say,
Je t’aime maman and Happy Mother’s Day
Forever in my heart and in my prayers will you stay.

Copyright 2018 Christiana Parisien

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Black is Beautiful

Racism- prejudice, discrimination, or antagonism directed against someone of a different race based on the belief that one’s own race is superior.

Racism is something that is taught. It is not something that is innate. We are not born with the ability to see color or to judge those who do not share the same culture, or that do not look like us.

Racism in itself is a huge epidemic all over the world, particularly in America. We all know this to be true, whether we choose to admit it or not. But what about bias? The division within our own communities? Our OWN race?

POC come in all different shades, sizes, and nationalities. I choose to use the term POC instead of minority, because well for one I never liked that term. Why must we be the MINORITY? Why should we be grouped into a category where the word in itself has a negative connotation?

I am a POC and proud to be. I embrace every opportunity to celebrate my race and culture, and jump at any opportunity to ignite the inner activist in me.

If I had a dollar for every time someone told me— “You don’t look Haitian”, “I thought you were Hispanic”, “Are you sure you’re not mixed?”, or “Are both your parents Black?”, I would be living on my own private island right now, away from this joke we call a country, and blasphemy we must accept as president; sipping on something dark of course.

They say ignorance is bliss but I disagree. What does being Haitian look like? What are the guidelines I should follow and what are the qualifications I should uphold in order for me to prove myself to you? Why should I have to prove myself to…anyone?

If I sound annoyed, it’s because I am. Imagine hearing your entire life that you’re too light skinned, that you have that “white people hair” and being bombarded with the same questions over and over again. Constantly having to prove that your Black is good enough. That YOU are enough.

As crazy as it may seem, I find myself giving in to those questions. Even worse, questioning my own identity. Wishing I was darker skinned. Wishing my curls were more of a 4c instead of whatever it is now. Contemplating starting a conversation with a stranger and risk spending 10 minutes discussing nationality. Admiring those who have those “defining features” that I do not.

Some might say, well don’t answer their questions. Some might think, your Black is beautiful just the way you are. And some, well some might just say who cares? From my experience … EVERYONE. It’s easy to say don’t answer their questions, but even the most evasive answers only leads to more questions, more doubt. It’s easy to say— just embrace your Blackness, without thinking of the power of words and the effect of repetition. It’s probably easiest to say who cares, when in actuality everyone seems to make it a point to.

So yes, I love me and I wouldn’t change me for the world. I love my people more than anyone can imagine and couldn’t imagine a world without our ideals, our foods, our languages, our music, so on and so forth.

But at the end of the day, in the eyes of the oppressor, we are all one in the same. We all feel the hurt when we lose one of our own due to social injustice. We all feel the anger when still, in the year 2018 eyes follow us throughout the store. When we are arrested because to them— all Blacks fit the same description. When one of us is locked up due to the smallest amount of weed, while our counterparts continue to walk away Scott Free with bigger drug possessions, rape and murder charges. Incarceration IS modern day slavery— stay woke.

I say all of this to say…

You can ask me where I’m from, without casting doubt.

You can comment on my hair without referring to it as “good hair” (there is no such thing as good or bad hair), or “white people hair” (Pretty sure they wouldn’t know what to do with my hair).

I know I’m light skinned— lighter than most— there’s no need to point out the obvious.

Most importantly recognize that we are all individuals who share the same race and culture.

We have enough riding on us, we don’t need to put added pressure on ourselves and each other.

Let’s show others that we are more than our looks, and that we stand united.

And let’s show each other that, for POC it’s not our features that define us, but what lies beneath.

Black is beautiful in all shapes, shades, and sizes; so let’s show the world our Black girl magic and our Black boy joy.

Copyright 2018 Christiana Parisien

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Mirror Mirror, On the Wall. Who is the Greatest Mother of Them All?

I used to think, “I’m gonna be different.” I am going to make something of myself, I won’t allow history to repeat itself, and most importantly I won’t end up like her. Always afraid of change and disorder. Afraid to live life to its fullest because being safe was always the more appealing option.Yet, it seems, the harder I try to be different from her, the more I realize we are the same.

Your love was everything. You never let one day go by without telling me how much you loved me. Even after getting a beating, you always said you were sorry, that you loved me, and that you just wanted me to listen. The more I grow and mature, one thing always remains the same. I love hard. When I love I’m all in. Whether it be family, friend or significant other, I want nothing more than to spread the love I have and to make sure the people I care about know how much I love them.

Stubbornness. Probably the most stubborn woman I know, you never let anything deter you from your beliefs-right or wrong. You would argue until the sun came up and would not stop until you had the last word. I’ve realized a long time ago that I am extremely hard headed. It doesn’t matter what anyone tells me, I’m going to do what I want regardless. I don’t take well to authority, and I definitely don’t like being told what to do. When I sit back and think about situations where my stubbornness took over, I can’t help but think about you, and how you’ve always been so head strong.

Simplicity. I will never forget the day you told me why you stopped wearing jewelry. I was a baby, and you were on your way to visit my Godmother in Brooklyn. It was late at night, and the only source of illumination were the street lights. You were walking from the train station with me in the stroller. A man in a ski mask came up to you and asked for your purse and jewelry. You refused. He snatched your purse and yanked your necklace off of your neck. Terrified, you got right back on the train and took us straight home. I remember as I was hearing the story, I could feel your pain, the terror, and it was like I was reliving that moment with you. For as long as I could remember you stayed makeup free (except of course for your lipstick obsession) and I would be shocked when I saw old pictures of you with a full face of makeup on. I think about how now I love being natural but always feel the need for lipstick, or lipgloss. How I don’t own much jewelry and I have my “everyday” jewelry that I might interchange once in a while. How I love everything natural and organic and stay informed on natural oils that will keep my hair and skin healthy. I remember you always complaining that my hair was kinky and getting frustrated when trying to style it. Trying out different oils- like carrot oil, to help manage the detangling and combing. I remember asking you when I was 10 if I could dye my hair, and you agreed to let me so long as it was a natural dye. At the time I was upset because I wanted a permanent color, but now I am grateful that you decided not to chemically treat my hair. My style has always been so simple yet fashionable, just like you.

Emotions. Well we both love so hard it hurts. The love you have for your children, especially for me felt stifling. Now I long for it. I remember 9/11, when they kept playing the plane crashing into the building on TV. You were crying hysterically. And I asked, “Mommy why are you crying?” And you said to me, “I am crying for all the lives lost.” I was so confused. I couldn’t understand why you were so emotional about people you’ve never even met. Now I see, your heart was so pure that the world’s tragedies were just too much to bear. I find myself getting emotional now about news stories, and I always think back to that day. I think about how my uncle- your brother, told me about how you had a mental breakdown. A depressive episode so bad that you had to be hospitalized. When your husband left you, you just couldn’t take it. I remember feeling so sad hearing this but not fully understanding. Now looking back, I can see myself in your shoes. I think back to my first love and how I went into a complete state of depression after we broke up, and an even worse depression when my ex and I broke up. What is it about you and I? What is it with our emotions? We’re so easily troubled, so ready to give all our love, completely heartbroken when we lose the ones that we love. We’re empathetic yet short-tempered. Loving yet impatient and no nonsense people. Both Libras who just want the best for those we love. More than what we want for ourselves.

I see myself in you almost everyday. Even when I’m not directly thinking about you. Even when I get upset because I feel like my memories of you are fading. And even when I think of the bad parts of my childhood. You live in my heart and soul and I could never forget you, even if I tried. I used to think being like you, or even becoming you was a bad thing. I made it my mission to be everything you’re not. But you the know the funny thing is- the harder you try not to be like your parents, is the more you realize that you’re just like them. The more I see myself in you, the scarier it becomes. There will always be that fear in the back of my head. What if I become mentally unstable? What if I push everyone away, and isolate myself to the point that all I have left is my immediate family? “What if?” is the daunting question in my mind every single day. But what if I am becoming you? A better version of you? With all of the good parts and even some of the bad? What if I’m meant to do all the things you couldn’t? Achieve all the things that you could not obtain? Be everything God intended me to be, and the person you imagine me to be?

Sometimes I miss you so much it hurts, and sometimes I’m grateful that things happened the way they did. One thing is for sure, I am no longer in denial and I’m learning to embrace what I know to be true. I am my mother’s daughter, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Copyright 2017 Christiana Parisien

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