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. 

The Bond - My Sister

(Left: Me, and Right: Cobie.... Most definitely doing something mean to me before this was taken)

 My biological sister is my best friend. Although it took us both growing up to realize this, I am glad to be at a place where I can confess my biggest hopes and deepest fears to her and know that whatever her opinion, it is only with my best interest in mind. She is the life of the party and still knows how to make everyone love her. I’m still the nerdy sister who has to try so incredibly hard to overcome every fear in my life. I have overcome so many of those fears with her in mind or her standing behind  me, sometimes taunting me to give me that extra push I need. When she struggles, I am there for her. We are more than biological sisters, we are the same. We have more jokes than I could ever have with anyone else. She has gotten me into more trouble than anyone else. Most importantly, she is the one person who understands me more than anyone else.

   

In those moments where my sister and I argue, we are able to see the aspects of our parents in each other and we end up laughing about it. In my worst of times she has held me and given me comfort that no one else is capable of giving. When I was pregnant and having complications, we came to realize that things weren’t going well. She called immediately and sat on the phone with me, just crying, because there were no words we could say to make it better. She was there when my daughter was born 9 weeks early and struggling for survival. She was at the hospital every day with me. Equally, I was her birth partner for her first baby, and held her through the whole process. She moved away once, and it was too much to bear. The distance hurt, so we found ways to communicate throughout the day. We watched TV shows together and then would text or call whenever we had the chance, just to have that connection like we were still hanging out together.

            

My sister is everything that I like and dislike about our mother, and I am everything that she likes and dislikes about our father.  This leads us to have conflict at times but we are honest enough in our relationship to admit that love is not affected by an argument. Our love for each other is unconditional and that makes us able to tell each other when we’re wrong and encourage each other when we’re right. Although we are so different in our lives, we still love to just be around each other. Even when we’re not talking about anything specific, it is her company that brings me comfort. She doesn’t realize it but even as an adult, I love to be in her home, just looking through her perfumes, nail polish and make up, trying desperately to understand how she is so wonderful and womanly, while I am very basic, and lack the general effort to indulge in “pretty things”. She has always been the beautiful one, and I was just a poorly attempted mimic of her.

            

(Left: Cobie and Right: Me.... this is the love we have for each other)

I define her as “sister” to distinguish her from those who don’t have the biological connection. I hold her up higher than any other because no matter what connection I may have with other sistahs in my heart, she is in my DNA and there is no closer bond than this. I love her with all that I am, because she is me, and I am her. 

The Bond - My Cousin Alaina

(Left: Me and Right: Alaina... matching outfits from about 1997...lol)

Some of my cousins became close with me at different points in my life. Alaina always has been my closest cousin. We connected on the most positive of levels. We were a team. She was the one who showed me the value of education. I was always jealous of how incredibly smart she was. She hit university first and exposed me to university life. She showed me the fun and the work involved with furthering her education. She took me to parties with my fake ID and we danced the night away. She wasn’t too proud to come to my high school and hang out there too. She had my back no matter where we were.

She was also the one who dried most of my tears because we were so close during that teenage emotional stage where every relationship feels like it’s the one, only to break up within weeks. Every break up, she would tell me how he didn’t deserve me and how God had something better planned for me. She would get me up and out and find us some matching outfits and we’d be having fun before the conversation had a chance to finish. We all need a sistah like this, who can kick your butt into gear when needed. Someone who can laugh at all the same things and feel your pain as if it’s her own. Someone who won’t judge, but just loves.

(Left: Me and Right: Alaina, the night she told us about her 4th pregnancy and we celebrated her newest bump)

            

Over the years we drifted when we grew to have our own families, but I still know I can call her if I need to talk. Whenever we can make arrangements to get out of the house at the same time, we take that time just to sit and catch up. The fact that we are cousins makes this easier because we can get together with the whole crew and it feels like home. This bond allows me to be myself and be raw with my emotions with her. This is the purest form of sistahood.  

The Bond - My First Sistah-Friend

(Left: My Cousin Tereza and Right: Me, at her 2nd Birthday Party... I was trying to blow her candles out)

Although I have one biological sister, we were 4 years apart and that difference made her want to avoid me as children. I count my cousins as my first sistah-friends because we were closer in age and that pushed us together at family gatherings. 

My cousin Tereza was the same age as me. She was tough, and knew all the secrets about sistahood that I was too naive to understand. She took me under her wing and I was determined to be the best damn sidekick ever. We told everyone we were sisters and if they asked questions because we didn’t look alike we challenged with aggression. She taught me that when you run your mouth and talk hard, no one will want to challenge it. She showed me how to fight (although I never actually fought, she did when necessary). She knew my secrets. She protected me with all her heart. When someone wanted to fight, she stepped in with imaginary reasons why she should fight them instead. She always had bigger beef to settle than I ever could, and she managed to get us into and out of some sticky situations. To this very day I am thankful for her sistahood love. 

The Definition of a Sistah

I figure the best way to start this blog is with a poem I wrote last year. I was looking for the definition of "Sistah" because I was working on something else and I wanted to see what it said exactly. I couldn't find anything other than female sibling related answers and while I do have a female sibling, that's not what I mean when I introduce someone as my Sistah. I decided to define it for myself in a poem. 

The Definition of a Sistah

When I speak about the women in my life there has never been a question

There has never once been an occasion for verbal dissection

It’s always been as simple as “this is my sistah”

No need to get it twisted

But when I looked for definition

I can’t find any recognition

For the women I call s-i-s-t-a-h

(That’s just the way I spell it)

But no matter which way I tell it

You know I’m not talking about a female born to my mother

It’s along the same lines as “brotha from another”

It’s not necessary for blood to connect us although sometimes it does

This is friendship based on a foundation of love

And maybe that’s the symbolism behind it all

I want people to understand just how close we are

Giving light to an unseen connection

It’s a term of deep affection that I give out carefully, and only when earned

With the remaining factor - that this love is returned

This bond is something closer than just friendship

She’s that firm hand that forces me to get a grip on reality

When the dreamer in me starts to fly away

She knows just what to say

Even when I don’t want to hear her

But just being near her

Brings me comfort in knowing she always got my back

And whatever I might lack

I guarantee she makes up for in one way or another

That’s why I love her

Cause I only gotta be me and she accepts that as perfection

The term sistah means protection

And she is my reflection

Cause she always throws things back at me to evaluate

Her opinion carries more weight

Then anybody else’s

Her knowledge = wealth

And I can’t begin to tell you how rich she would be if she got paid for handing out life lessons

It is a blessing

When women friends care enough to turn friendship into family

And that’s how it’s supposed to be

Cause I imagine the term sistah has deeper roots then this

Beginning with cracked whips

We were forced from family and had to create our own

And we must have known

That the connection was deeper than just coming together out of necessity

It was a safe place for us to be

Where we were loved and respected even if the whole world refused to do the same

And the importance of the name

Was not just that we identified as friends and family

It was how we came to be

And where we planned on going

Because with my sistahs I would always be growing

Simply because they took the time to nurture me

And generations ago “sistah” could mean “free”

Black women joined together to clear the path to the underground railway

“Sistah’s” visiting meant a black woman had a safe place to stay

And if I wasn’t brave enough to run

You would be standing behind me with shotgun

Cause you would never leave your sistah behind

You’d give me clarity of mind

Directing me with hidden clues in quilts sewn by hand

You could put me on a path to a free land

By hanging your hard work on clotheslines for me to see as I ran past

And sistahs would sacrifice themselves and agree to go last

Cause I would gladly take on anything

If I could bring some measure of safety to my sistah

So we fast forward ahead to when racial segregation

Still took place in education

You knew sistah meant a connection and a safe place to be yourself

We’d find a sistah nurse when we had questions about our health

If I couldn’t feed my family

I’d find a sistah cook

And if I didn’t know how to read

I’d find a sistah with a book

Cause sistah meant trust, and love and care

Even if we didn’t know each other, you knew I was there

The same way we still acknowledge each other with simple greetings and head nods

And we could travel like a squad

Militantly reciting messages of support to make sure we all hear it

There’s nothing to fear

When you’re with your sistahs

And today sistah means strength

She is only as far as my arm’s length, or a phone call from whenever I might need her

I can succeed with her

Because her motivation is sometimes all that’s required

To get me all fired up

Sistah means love’s pure power

Because negativity gets devoured simply by being in her presence

She is still standing behind me with shotgun

When I need to run and can’t find the strength for my legs to carry on

And she is wary on the topic of anything that might not be best for me

She will protest for me

Because of everything sistahood represents

She is a series of life events

That connected us at vital points of meaning

Never leaning but always lifting

She is a gift

And that’s why I call her sistah

-JNP