Complexities of Being Black

February 26, 2019 by Ikeranda Smith in black, history, LGBTQIA, life, love, loveislove, personal growth, personal development, relationships, women of color, people of color

There is a heartbreaking tenderness about black folks. A majestic story that is spoken through stolen slaves + subjugated bodies. Our faces are centuries away from our soul; yet we carry the smile of humanness. An accessibility we would allow if we knew how to enter our own spirits. It’s evident that our feet carry the shackles of insecurities proven to shatter relationships when we come up against our own likeness. We struggle to love due to the threats that were made to keep us isolated. Oh, how I love being black. Did you think I wouldn’t after I divulged some of our frailties? Despite our struggles, we are larger than life, precious jewels that create art through our pain while we use laughter as a salve to heal so that we may survive yet another day.

To Be Black + A Mother

February 11, 2019 by Ikeranda Smith in black, history, LGBTQIA, life, love, motherhood, parenting, relationships, women of color

I was raised by a mother who was tough as a fistful of “no thank you’s”; yet resilient enough to beckon the sun to shine even when it was raining. She raised most of her siblings, missed half of the school year working to provide for her family + married the first person that resembled a deep breath. Convinced that she had escaped a life of monotony, she conceived me with a man who never achieved success, so he recycled ignorance. Nevertheless, my mother raised me with fortitude + grace bestowing on me all of her failed dreams + the effects of being neglected. It sounds cruel as if my life was being ruined; however, it was being created from the residue of a generation that carried the weight of being extraordinarily resilient.

The Woman I Never Knew

September 10, 2018 by Ikeranda Smith in motherhood, parenting, women of color, relationships

My mother, Mavis A. Carter (born McRae) is the oldest girl of 12 siblings. She was born in the 1940’s just a few years removed from slavery. The sound of that truth still haunts me; yet allows me immense understanding of who my mother was destined to be. I am a firm believer that every child should fully understand the weight of who your parents are. Alcarez, as she is affectionately called is absolutely forthright, exceptionally amusing, tremendously magnanimous, and relatively convoluted. However, I was blessed with the privilege of having her as a mother. I don’t think I always believed that it was a privilege, but wisdom grows as your experience of the world is elevated.