Nowadays, thanks to social media, there is so much being said about The Bronx that, in my opinion, isn’t completely accurate, or at least not for the entire Bronx. The main thing is that people are under the impression that there are no nice areas of The Bronx, that everyone and everything in The Bronx is dirty, that there are no safe areas in The Bronx. Now I’m a Black woman of small stature, there isn’t a place on earth that is 100% safe to me. However, I can point out the areas that I feel safer in than others. I can also point out areas where the sidewalks and stores are clean. Where people are actually taking care of their community.
I recently moved to a “borough” in Jersey, outside of Hackensack so my commute to my job in The Bronx has changed significantly. When I lived and worked in The Bronx, I noticed the difference between my neighborhood and where my job is because gradually my neighborhood has become like the one where my job is. I couldn’t wait to get to that certain part of Tremont Ave where things seemed to calm down.
One day in September after parking in the job parking lot, I got out of my car and took a breath. There seemed to be a stench in the air. Later, I stepped out of work to go to the store and smelled the same stench. I said to my best friend later, “Is it me or does The South Bronx stink? I mean like, did it always stink or is it just starting to stink?”
She said, “Both. It was stink before and now its getting worse. It’s more noticeable.”
Lately, I dread walking down the street near my job more than I did before. It smells, the sidewalks look filthy… and then the people. I feel horrible for saying this because I am well aware of the affects of poverty and drugs. I lived through the crack era. But damn, the people in The South Bronx depress me. Everybody looks like the Gross Sisters from The Proud Family.
For a while I was afraid the North Bronx would be subject to the same deterioration of the South. I get the feeling that those who own the private homes, 2-6 family units, and tenements are not going to let that happen. There’s also the development of the Metro North station in Parkchester. In fact, let me take a moment to talk about Parkchester. I’m not sure where people get it from that Parkchester is a project or NYCHA community. Initially, after the Civil War, part of Parkchester was an orphanage for misplaced children. Later, in 1938, that land and a great deal more was bought by Met Life, and by the early 1940s families began to move into newly built condominiums. White families, that is. Black people were not allowed in until around 1968. My own family was able to rent a two-bedroom condo in the North sometime in the 1970s. They left at the end of 1983, shortly after I was born, because the two-bedrooms would no longer suffice for my grandmother, her husband, her two almost-adult daughters, me, and a dog. While I was growing up, in the 80s and early 90s, Parkchester was a coveted place to live. The parks were and still are, pretty. The home that my grandmother bought wasn’t too far from there and so my mother could still take me for walks in the area. I loved the fountain and begged to swim in it because I thought the water was blue… the fountain is just painted blue on the inside though. I asked my mother why people threw pennies in the swimming pool. She explained, “It’s not a pool,” she explained. “It’s a fountain. People throw pennies in to make wishes.” Well why did she tell me that? I went from begging to frolic in the copper polluted water to begging for more change to throw in it. As a teenager, I did what my mother did when she was a teenager—I hung out at the park in the West. That’s when the neighborhood started to get a little shaky. Gangs seeped in and Parkchester started seeing it’s fair share of “hood crime.”

Still, when I was in my twenties and friends bought or rented condos there, particularly in the North, Parkchester wasn’t the worst place to be. It wasn’t until after the pandemic in 2020, when I rented from a friend in the North that I started to see the deterioration for myself. The first week I moved in, I was on the elevator. A woman got on with her dog. I made a joke about having puppy fever, and she said, “Well you can’t have a dog here unless its a service or emotional support dog.”
I nodded, assuming her dog was for emotional support. It clearly wasn’t a service dog.
“You renting or you own here?” she asked.
“Uhh… renting from family,” I stated. “Oh. Then it might not be a big deal for you. They treat owners and renters differently here.” Her voice became resentful.
After that, she barely spoke to me when she saw me. For months, until more things opened back up in NYC, Parkchester maintenance was what I considered top notch. They cleaned the buildings at the same time every day from top to bottom. When I went back to work in person in 2021, it all stopped. People were urinating in the staircases and packing the trash chutes with way too much trash. It was crazy. I had never experienced living in NYCHA, but I felt like I was getting a taste for the three years I remained there. They broke ground for the new Metro North station directly after I moved out. Parking was already an issue in the area, and the gain of the train station meant the loss of an entire parking lot that most of the working community relied on. I was glad to get away, but I’m continuously curious about the possible improvements of the area, thanks to the train station.
Anyway, I’m not saying all this this to drag The South Bronx, but I do want to say this — there is a difference between the North and South Bronx. Honestly though, I wish there was something that could be done about The South Bronx. I know that there isn’t necessarily anything to be done because it starts with the mindset of the people who inhabit it. They can’t be forced to care if they don’t know that they should or that there’s a better way of living. All I got left is prayer.
Like the title of the blog, these are just my random thoughts. I post for commentary. If you’re from The Bronx or ever lived there, do you know the difference between the north and south? The east and the west? Have you experienced the slow decline, or was it always a raggedy hot mess to you? I’m curious to know what everyone else’s experience is. The way I see it, the bad parts have leaked into the good, but only where the community wasn’t strong enough to stop it. I think there will continue to be a distinct difference between the north and south, and I wish other’s knew about the differences before opening their mouths about it.

Fight or Flight??? That’s exactly how I felt the morning after the election on the drive to work. How can I join the fight? Or should I just run away?

We sleep with the tv on and I don’t think my boyfriend realizes how sound affects me in my sleep. I prefer the tv on for background noise, but I needs to be good sounds. Trump’s voice is never a good sound for me, especially in my sleep. I literally shuddered and cried when I heard him cheering for his win. I’ve been physically uncomfortable and crabby all day.

The truth of this election is this: this is the second time it’s been proven that this country hates women. While yes, white women are put on a pedestal, it’s an unstable one. The vengeance for white women’s tears is the protection and upholding of white male masculinity and patriarchy. It has nothing to do with the white man’s love for white women. It is about his selfishness and love for himself.

Let’s consider the early history of this country. We all know the land was stolen, and it wasn’t stolen by white women. It was stolen by white men. White women were just along for the benefit of companionship, bedmates, and breeding. Look at where things are going today. Women of all races, ethnicities, and cultures have strayed away from this ideology as the end-all be-all for their lives, for different reasons. It appears as though the white man cannot handle a woman, of any race, ethnicity, or cultural background, being his peer, better yet being more qualified than him for something. Do I think all men are like this? No. But I do think it’s more prominent in white men and feel like this was a blatant display of my theory.

Black women took this loss hard, and to that I say I feel you, but again this really isn’t our battle. Keep in mind, there are African countries that are paying people to move there. Now, I haven’t checked out all the pros and cons, if I choose to leave the country, I won’t be going to Africa or Europe, but I’m just putting it out there. While we’re concerned about our rights being taken away, my concerns are back on the bigger picture same as in 2016… this country is WIDE open for takedown. It’s not like Trump, at minimum, is a critical thinker. We don’t have a chess player headed to office. This is not someone who is for the country. This is someone who is out for self, and he used the undereducated to solidify his get out of jail free card.

This country is once again, a joke, and that’s my honest deep down fear. We are Tubi up against Disney Plus, Max, Netflix, and Hulu, because who is going to take us seriously? Anyway, all I can do is suggest we consider all of our options and look that way. We tried to save a country that has us at the bottom of the totem pole. What’s left?
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I don’t consider myself politically versed enough to criticize another’s decisions and choices under these circumstances. I know what will have to be done for me and mine, should the hammer truly come down. In the meantime, it’s about to be another freak show. Save your money and get your popcorn ready.

I can’t believe I’m still writing about this. With all the successful co-parenting examples we have on the socials, and some of y’all still out here creating drama. Frankly, it’s outdated and weird.

Let’s talk about how it’s outdated first. If you have a teenager or adult child and you are STILL beefin with the daddy, sum’n nuh right. It’s been over a decade sis, let that shit go. Whatever that man did up to 13 years ago has reached its statute of limitations. It’s no longer just spilled milk, it’s sour milk now. If you’re still carrying it around, you stink. How do I know? Well, for one and to use the term my co-parent hates, I’m a “baby mama.” I would like to claim that I was never bitter but that’s bullshit. However my bitterness only lasted about 9 months. I really couldn’t get into carrying that smelly shit around with me. Not only does it affect your vibe but it also affects your child’s vibe. They know when something is not right and, as the child of unmarried parents, I can tell you it’s uncomfortable. Unselfish moms that truly care about their child’s feelings won’t put their child through that. Please take that into consideration.

Also, it’s outdated because who does that these days? I thought Black folks were changing or clarifying the narrative. Baby mama-drama should be a thing of the past. Most of what I see up and down my social media timelines are examples of active fathers and successful co-parenting measures, which are ideal. The people in these videos and photos look happy, and I wouldn’t say stress free, cuz life still life’s, but they’re not unnecessarily stressed. They don’t have the added issue of a combative relationship with their co-parent.

So why is it weird to be a bitter baby mama? It gives mental instability, and how do you not feel yourself unraveling? If your child is your best friend, you’re not ok Sis. If you’re still co-sleeping EVERY night after three years old, you’re not ok Sis (Not the child. YOU.) If you spy on your child’s phone conversations with their father, you’re not ok Sis. If you are not dating simply because you have a child, you’re not ok Sis. If you say negative things to your child about their father and/or his family, you’re not ok Sis.

You’re an adult. Your best friend shouldn’t be 4, 5, or 6 years old. Know what? Lemme keep it 100 with y’all. Deep down I feel like a girl’s best friend (besides diamonds) is her mother. My child is and has been since her birth, undoubtedly my best friend. However, in raising her, I leaned on her godmothers… my best friends from childhood and according to her, that’s who mom’s best friends are. I never let my child think we were on the same level, even when we had similar sentiments towards her father. Get some friends to vent about your baby daddy to… or a therapist. Either one is healthier than talking to a five-year-old.

You’re an adult, and your “baby” is six. Get that child out your bed! Unless you’re facing hard times, you can and should sleep separately. Now, when I was 26, my daughter was 7 and we lived in a two-room basement apartment. I thought I could set up her bed in a certain corner but it never worked out that way. So for that year, she slept with me. In fact, I didn’t have consistent space for her to sleep in until she was eight. I left her father the year she turned five, and things were rough for a while. So I completely understand “hard times.” But if you can comfortably afford two or more bedrooms, that’s what you need to get and put your child in THEIR OWN bedroom. Co-sleeping with a school-aged child is crazy.

You’re an adult. Mind your business. Unless the father has been abusive, shows signs of potentially being abusive, and/or requires supervised visits, mind ya business. Let them go talk to their father. Let them have a relationship with their father that doesn’t involve you. Sometimes, what they won’t tell us, they will tell their dads. And guess what? Dad can address and advise accordingly. Everything doesn’t have to be on us as mothers. Give up some of that responsibility to the man that helped you make the child in the first place… and not just financially. He should know how to do everything you know how to do for that child. And trust there will be things that he can do that you can’t. You trusted him enough to go raw with him, trust him enough to be able to raise the child that came from your vulnerability with him.

GO ON A DAMN DATE!!! Are you really sitting at home getting grey on the top and cobwebbed between the legs cuz you have a child at home?? Please stop! Especially if you have an active baby daddy, and/or supportive grandparents, aunties, uncles, godparents, etc. Those people are your village. RELY on them. Don’t take advantage! But yes, rely on them. They should be active in their roles. And “Mama gotta have a life too.” (Baby Boy, 2001) Your life cannot be on hold because you are a mother. I guarantee you’ll be pouring from an empty cup if you are avoiding courtship. You deserve to be complimented and to enjoy yourself with an intimate or potentially intimate companion. Get your “hair done, nails done, everything did” (Drake, 2010), go outside, and fill your cup with joy that you can spread to your child!

This one goes back to being friends with your child… don’t talk about their fathers in a negative light to them. You have sisters, cousins, and friends for that type of venting. And it should be venting, not bashing. Remember, you cocked your legs open, or threw it back for him, so he obviously wasn’t that bad. Baby daddies can be frustrating so it’s okay to get it off your chest… with ya homegirls though and ya eight-year-old daughter is NOT ya homegirl.

Hanging on to the bitterness of a breakup does not benefit you in anyway. Steer clear of toxic elements between you and your child. The less you focus on that man, your ex, your baby daddy, the better you will feel. I promise you this and I can because I lived it.

It’s called SAD: Seasonal Affective Disorder. Lack of sunlight can cause depression. I do experience this. I’ve been experiencing it since I was 11 years old. I don’t even know why it started or how to describe how I feel… it’s just really bad. Then as soon as the temperature breaks and the sunlight hours increase, it’s like I feel my insides blooming like flowers.

I don’t like snow. I don’t like cold weather. I only participate in winter holidays because I have children in my life. I was banned from putting up Christmas decorations in my house as a teenager because I was a killjoy. My job was to take everything down alone January 6th and I was happy to do it because to me it meant spring was coming soon.

Do not take it personal if I prefer not to attend winter events. It’s hard enough facing outside going to work every day. All week I look forward to being home, hiding from the dark skies. All winter I look forward to spring.

Despite what was happening, I was ok December 2020-March 2021. I worked from home and I never left my house on foot. I wore winter weather boots ONCE that whole time.
My significant other has really helped me manage over the last two years. This type of depression requires people that understand it’s nothing personal and no you cannot snap out of it. They understand that the heat needs to be on 1000 and the lights have to be on. They let you curl up with your books and watch crime documentaries, and keep you hydrated with tea or wine lol.

If someone you know exhibits this pattern, don’t guilt them for hating winter. I would love to be happy to see Christmas lights or play in snow, but... I. Just. Cannot.

Everyone has fantasies. Some of us dream of the perfect mate, the perfect job, or the perfect home. We get inspired by something we heard, saw, or read, and we run with it. We imagine ourselves having fairytale weddings, having the corner office with the grand view, or entertaining friends in a grand dining room in the home of our dreams. Something happens to us when we actually obtain these things though, right? With that perfect mate comes their baggage, the corner office comes with a ton of responsibilities, and the perfect home requires a maintenance team that must be appropriately compensated. When the dreams become reality, they’re not always all they’re cracked up to be.
It's human nature to dream and to look for ways to make life comfortable. What we don’t consider is the costs. We don’t think about how light and dark don’t exist without each other. Everything has a downside. However we walk into every situation that we prayed for and manifested deliberately ignoring the downsides because we think we’re setting ourselves up for bad juju. Meanwhile, we don’t realize that we’re just setting ourselves up for aggravation, hurt, and disappointment.
Instead of leaning into the expectations of our imaginations, we need to set realistic expectations and express them to all parties involved. As of late, while I consider a new career path, I’ve been told more than once “Don’t be afraid to ask what they have to offer you.” This is a way of setting realistic expectations. When we walk into a situation, only focused on what we dreamed up, we don’t give ourselves the opportunity to let others know how you expect them to play their part. If a conversation of real expectations never happens, then the thrill of realizing our dream is short-lived.
In every life-altering transition, everyone should consider not only weighing the pros and cons, but they should discuss them, openly. A conversation of sorts can avoid more than the dissatisfaction of what we dreamed of and worked for. It can expose dealbreakers. Knowing the dealbreakers of others helps us to see both sides of a situation, and again we won’t be disappointed in areas where they seemingly don’t comply with our desires.
I am absolutely not saying you shouldn’t go after your dreams, or that you should expect your dreams to disappoint you. I am saying that in order to indulge in and enjoy the dreams that you worked hard to achieve, it’s important to be realistic about them. The unexpected will still occur, but setting expectations prior creates an armor that lessens the blow as well as the ability to move accordingly.

“If you can’t love yourself, how in the hell you gonna love somebody else?” I’ve heard this RuPaul phrase more times than I care to remember. My daughter is a huge fan of RuPaul’s Drag Race, and although the phrase plays like a broken record in my mind, it secretly informs the philosophy I live by and have raised my daughter on. We are a “You First” family. Over time I have learned how to prioritize myself in order to be the absolute best to my daughter and others that I love, and it’s been embedded in her to do the same.
From around October 2015 until May 2022 I’d been in what’s called a “situation-ship.” A situation-ship is when two consenting adults agree to date and be intimately involved, but not label the relationship as anything but a situation—hence the term, situation-ship. What usually happens in these situation-ships is that one of the parties ends up waiting for the other to want more, or one of the parties starts to do things that implies that the situation has become more than what it was initially meant to be. In my case, I was being led on a never-ending hunt for nonexistent treasure.
I’ve always had a secure sense of self, so I never compromised who I am for this person. I did however, believe their lies, and then question myself when he commenced to gaslighting and villainizing me for questioning if I wanted marriage or more children. Anyway, after five years of back & forth nonsense, and one year of attempting some semblance of a friendship, I suddenly felt like I never wanted to hear from him again. The misleading path became redundant instead of remaining as adventurous as it started out. I wanted strong consistent companionship, something he wasn’t capable of. So on Mother’s Day in 2022, when I awoke to a text from him, wishing me a happy Mother’s Day and telling me what an amazing mother I am, I decided that would be our last conversation ever. I replied, “Thank you for the Mother’s Day wishes. Please do not ever contact me again. My stomach hurts when I see your number.” My friends said that was harsh, but I was being real and sometimes reality bites. When I sent that message, I had no idea that I had unblocked the roadway to a blessing heading my way. Two months later, I met the person that would provide the strong consistent companionship that I craved, and more. I’ve found a “main squeeze” who makes me feel like a good person instead of a wicked witch. I never say that he makes me happy because I am the creator of my happiness, but he certainly contributes a great deal to it.
Fast forward again, another two years have gone by and my daughter says to me, “I’m gonna break up with him. He’s boring and he wants me to be boring like him. But I like to have fun. So I am going to let him go so I can have fun.” My daughter is now twenty-one and she was speaking of a boyfriend that she’d been in a year-long relationship with. This was her first serious relationship, so honestly, my expectations were low. I mentally prepared for possibly another year of these complaints, perhaps a few heated arguments between them, and a few hysterical sobbing episodes from her. I was all the way wrong. A week later she broke up with old boy and she has not looked back since. She meant what she said. She was bored and he didn’t bring any fun into her life.
Proud Mom Moment! My daughter was still heartbroken, but she didn’t let it break her. She put herself first and nurtured her own needs. While I was prepared for the dramatics, it never happened. She is honest about missing the young man, but she is also clear about the happiness she created for herself. She hangs out, takes trips, and spends a lot of time with her cousins and friends, all the things this young man took issue with. She was not willing to put any of that aside just to be able to say she had a boyfriend. She values herself and takes responsibility for her own happiness. Something I think should be commended. Hell, in fact, I think there should be a workshop on it and my daughter should lead it.
More times than not, women are willing to transform into someone unrecognizable and/or put up with all kinds of crap because we’ve been taught that having a man or partner is what makes us valuable. We think putting other’s first makes us virtuous, when really it makes us resentful crabs on the inside. There is joy in doing for others but only when your own cup is full. You cannot show up whole for others if you’re unhappy. You also do not leave room for good things, if you’re energy is being zapped by someone unworthy of sharing your joy. Put you first and remember what RuPaul said, “If you can’t love yourself, how in the hell you gonna love somebody else?”