The Bond - Carrie

(Left: Carrie and Right: Me... one of the only pics of us together since Carrie is notoriously camera shy)

The longest non-family-member bond I have is with my sistah Carrie. She moved to my neighbourhood when we were about 11-12 and she still remembers how I approached her at recess on her first day at my school, and asked her if she wanted to hang with me and another girl. We immediately became inseparable. She would stop at my house on the way to school and get me. She would come over at lunch. We would be at either her house or my house after school until one of our parents said we had to break it up or they gave in and let us sleep over.

            

Carrie was a little bit older than me and always knew more. She had been through some rough situations that gave her that “street smart” perspective that I was too sheltered and naive to know about at that age. She gave me my first taste of alcohol and nursed me when I thought I was going to die the next day. She held my secrets and told me about all the things wrong with the world. She let me borrow her clothes and tried desperately to do my bangs like hers although she had no idea how to work with black hair.

            

Although we worked hard to stay at the same schools, Carrie eventually left. When you’re a teenager this usually means the end of the friendship, but not for us. Even when Carrie’s mom was moving her around, or the occasional time she ran away, she would always call me. She always let me know that she was ok and by that point she always knew that she had a backup plan of being able to stay with me. She was the first friend to call my parents Mom & Dad, instead of by their names. She even fought with my sister when we fought because she was an only child and she thought it was funny.

            

As we got older Carrie had two beautiful daughters who I became Godmother of before even having to say it. When she called to tell me she was pregnant I ran to her house and threw her back on the bed and put my head on her non-existent belly and immediately started talking to “my baby”. All she could do was laugh at me. When I was pregnant she couldn’t wait to do the same with me. She was the one friend my Mama called when they decided I was too sick and my daughter had to be delivered. Carrie told my Mom that she would see her at the hospital and even though she had no money for a cab, she was so determined to be there for me, that she was going to walk. My Mom loved her enough to pick her up along the way, because she couldn’t believe her dedication to me. Our children call each other God-sisters and every time my daughter struggled, her daughters have been there for her.

            

She has seen more misfortune than I imagine is fair for one person and yet I see her get back up, work harder, and keep trying where I feel like I would have given up a thousand times over. She is quiet and strong willed and I admire the fact that once her mind is made up, there is no deterring her plan. When I call her with problems, the answer is always a simple “do it” or “don’t do it” but that is her nature, to stop making things all wishy-washy and get it done. Carrie is my reason for hope.

The Bond - All My Poetry Sistahs

(Me... Since I haven't gotten permission to post pics of all the amazing sistah-poets I know...lol)

The other bond I need to discuss is the bond within my poetry circle. The sistahs who have crossed my path through reading, hearing, and feeling their words are beautiful and amazing. There are too many to list, and also some have places with different bonds in my life, but being able to listen and feel the words said by a sistah, when she expresses something from her soul always affects and educates me. We all have different struggles, stand for different things, and want to raise awareness for different issues but poetry has always given me a way to better understand things in the women around my life. They give me breath when I am sometimes unable to breathe.

           

Poetry has been a part of my life since I could write. I won a poetry contest for a poem I wrote about a teacher in grade 3, after she secretly submitted it in my name. After finding out that I won, I was asked to come and read it at a reception ceremony at our local library. I had written it out of thanks because this teacher had held me and wiped my tears numerous times when I was bullied or teased for being the only black student in the class. On one occasion a student told me that I was not to touch the “skin color” crayon because it was only for “normal” people (and yes, this was when Crayola made one crayon called “skin color” and it was peach and I was not). I cried my eyes out and my teacher kept me in at recess so she could talk to me and try to build some confidence in my crushed spirit. I wrote that poem because I appreciated her so much in that moment and I wanted her to know that what she did for me was life changing, even at such a young age. I had never thought about sharing it with anyone other than her.

            

(Me at the Grade 3 Poetry Contest Reception... fly outfit and hair courtesy of Mama... lol)

I showed up to this event and my mom had dressed me all up. I was nervous and I just remember how proud my mom was and that I had to do it because my mom had made such a big deal about it. My mom has always been my biggest supporter. I read my poem and saw my teacher’s eyes well up with tears, and everyone loved it. They all commented to her about how special she must be and what a great teacher she was. It was the first time I realized that I could make someone else understand my feelings, even if it was just a fraction of my actual feelings, through poetry.

            

I didn’t really get into performing until I was in university. The sistahs there were so strong and I wanted to be strong like them. They spoke about experiences I could relate to. They spoke about experiences I had no idea existed. They spoke from their hearts and their words let me in, gave me inspiration, and showed me things in different lights. None of these sistahs are the same and yet we share so much.

            

Sometimes we would have writing sessions with some of these sistahs, where we would all sit, and share and bounce ideas off of each other, or give valuable criticism to help each other grow as artists. I loved just being part of the circle. Anything was up for discussion and it helped me to learn so much about what was happening in their lives, what issues were important to them, or just to laugh and have fun with the love present in the room.

            

Some sistahs have reached me and may not know how much their poems have affected me. Sometimes I hear a sistah on the mic and their words follow me home and make me research, discover and leave a place in my heart. Sometimes I have the courage to let them know how much I am affected by their words and sometimes I don’t have the words to express what they mean to me for sharing their poems with the world.

There is a real power in spoken word poetry. There is a long history of storytelling starting with the griot and a drum and a history that was told in ways to make you understand by feeling it. This is in my blood, and I even see the tradition in my daughter who naturally wants to write and speak. When a sistah gets on that mic and shares something from her soul there is magic. Something happens that can’t be described, but can only be experienced. There is an unspoken bond with these women that is forever. 

The Bond - Not my sistah, but my Frister...

(Top: Me and Bottom: Mo... laying on the floor taking pics with matching outfits... this was regular for us)

            

Although all the women I am connected to feel like family, my sistah Mo is the one who actually joined the family. We went to university together and became great friends. It wasn’t until we started living across the street from each other that we became inseparable. We’d constantly be at one another’s house, and times when we needed each other we would call and without even saying a word we would know, and be on the way over with tea.

            

When Mo bought a house with her future husband, I moved again, just up the street from them. Mo was my church partner, because we lived so close to each other, and our church was further away. We would always encourage each other, even on the days when we didn’t want to make the long trip, it was easier to drive, have a long chat, and then go for lunch together after service. We prayed together often, and she has always been a great person to depend on for spiritual encouragement and guidance.

            

We also had fun together. She’s the person who made me have so much fun. We had “our restaurant” where we would always go out to eat, and her husband would joke that I was “wife number 2 aka the no-funny-business-wife” because I accompanied them on so many of their dates and was regularly part of the plan.  I was a single woman at the time and he would lecture Mo not to leave me alone, or make sure that if we went to a club he would pick us both up because neither of them wanted me waiting for a cab alone.

           

(Left: Me and Right: Mo, lip-synching at her Bachelorette party) 

Mo and I partied plenty. She taught me to let my hair down and just have fun without worrying about how anyone looked at us. She was famous for this hand move / facial expression combination she would do in the face of any man who tried to interrupt our sistah circle. We weren’t out looking for dates, we just wanted to have fun together.

            

One day, after Mo and I were out for lunch, we stopped in to my parent’s house. My parents always thought the world of her because of how she was always there for me. We had a moment that made Mo really miss her family at home and she said something about it. My mom immediately told her she was part of our family and she never wanted to hear differently. For this reason we call each other “Frister” instead of sistah... it is the combination of “Friend + Sister”. Mo has been part of the family ever since. She has also welcomed me into her family as well. I love her parents and it was her mother who almost forced me to admit I had fallen in love with my hubby when I brought him to her house as a friend. She laughed at me and said “You can lie to yourself, but don’t lie to me!” and she was right.

(Left: Mo and Right: Me)

            

My bond with Mo is unique because we are there for each other in ways too embarrassing to even talk about except with each other. We have seen each other at our very best and at our very worst. We have agreed to an honesty that allows us to fight, and I mean we have seriously fought over things, but we love each other enough to always come back together. I can’t imagine anything that would make us cease to be “Fristers”. We know that sistahood means unconditional love and we will always give that. 

The Bond - My Sistah El

(Left: Me and Right: El)

There are sistahs who come into my life and it seems as though there’s never been a time that they haven’t been there. My sistah El is that one for me. We are so alike it’s hard for me to explain to people that she’s not my biological sister. She loves everything that I love, and hates everything that I hate. She jokes that this is a prerequisite for friendships, and even though we know that it’s not true, we agree to it.

           

She is the most talented person I have ever had the chance to encounter. We first came to know each other through poetry and quickly realized that we have everything in the world to bond over.  She inspires me in so many ways and it is with her encouragement that I have done performances I had previously been too afraid to do. She gives me strength.

(Left: Me and Right: El... Most of our pics together are of me squeezing her like I need to keep her safe from the world... lol)

            

Although I have so many sistahs who watch over, or protect me, she is the one I am most protective of. Since she is so incredibly brilliant, people often assume that she is not the emotional kind, and this is where we are most connected. We are both soft hearted and take everything straight to an emotional position. This causes us pain at times and in those moments where tears are necessary, we will both shed them no matter who is experiencing the pain.

            

I have always been quick to come to the defence of those I love, and with El’s delicate heart that gives so much, I am twice as defensive because I feel her pain. In my “Definition of a Sistah” poem, it was her I was thinking of, especially the line that says:

“Cause I would gladly take on anything

If I could bring some measure of safety to my sistah”

(Left: El and Right: Me... again with the squeezing...lol)

I'd like to think of her as the version of me with no children. She is able to commit more time and energy to community work than I would ever be able to commit to. When I am exhausted from family life and my kids’ extracurricular activities, she is just warming up and ready to go for anyone who might need her. This motivates me to be a better sistah, to do more, and to give more. She is a shining example of what community means. She is the sistah who would break herself, spread herself too thin if it meant that she was helping someone else. In my younger days I would do this too, so now I understand the importance of self-care and she is constantly subject to my self-care-motherly lectures. Even with all the lecturing in the world I know that she will still continue to push through as long as there is love to fuel her. All I can do is be here with love, support and sometimes a shield to protect her heart, but she has shown me that sistahood means accepting and loving each other as we are, so I know that I could never make her give up the work that she does, even for self-preservation. 

Even when we are together with tears, pain, or suffering, it is with great love. 

The Bond - My Sistah Kim

(Left: Kim, and Right: Me.... this is what it's usually like when we're together...)

One of the most important sistahs in my life is a woman named Kim. The first time I met her I was scared that she was going to beat me up because she had a blunt nature about her, and at school she was all focus, so I never saw her smiling or fooling around. She sat down next to me on the bus one day and said “I like your hair” without even making eye contact. I thanked her and prayed that she wouldn’t hurt me. She in fact, became my best friend. We worked as a team in classes and flew through the courses with ease. We bonded at school and I came to have her home as my second home. We partied together, prayed together, and evaluated each other’s relationships. She is the voice of reason for me. She has always been the level-headed friend who can take my emotional side down a notch. There is a quote by Toni Morrison that says:

"She is a friend of mind. She gather me, man. The pieces I am, she gather them and give them back to me in all the right order. It's good, you know, when you got a woman who is a friend of your mind."

This is what she does for me. I can call her, when I am a big ball of emotions and she will sort through them for me and tell me how I should feel. She is that rock of realism that cuts through the daily bull to get to the real issue. Every woman needs a rock like her.

            

Aside from being my rock, she was also my protector. She was wary about every man’s intentions with me. She kept me from danger. She watched out for me when I was destructive and didn’t want to watch out for myself. She is still the sistah I call when I need to work through something I’m feeling, or before I make a big move in my life. I depend on her opinion to bring me balance.

(Left: Me and Right: My Kimmy)

I can remember one occasion when we were at a bar and a fight broke out. Kim was the one who sent my inexperienced self to the bar to get her a drink, knowing that there was a big line up and it would take me a while to get through to get it. By the time I made it back to where the fight had broken out, the fight was over, Kim had handled it, and I was standing there with zero damage holding her drink. This is the kind of protection she has always given me. I don’t think I could possibly offer the same kind of love and support to her, but I have tried. I still try to evaluate what I can possibly offer to someone who is so strong and independent and the only thing I can ever come up with is love.