Identity Crisis - Excerpt from the Chapbook "I SPaT"

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My identity has made a huge impact on my art. Expertise is ever evolving, but the credential of self-knowledge is probably the easiest to back. So many writers, including myself, write about what we know. It is accessible and often therapeutic. I am a Christian, so I try to maintain some semblance of Godliness in my work. The Bible discusses the best and the worst in each of us, yet it is still biblical. I try to be as honest and raw when need be in my commentary, but I remind myself that my lower self has no place in public company. Speaking from a higher voice not only releases wisdom from a spiritual source, it also guides me to where I need to be; often the talk comes first, and then the walk. I am black, so my perspective is awash in the pigment of Africa and whitewashed in the hue of America. It is all that I know. I have no other voice. I am delighted by all of me, but perhaps it is a longing for my motherland that keeps me attached to the fantasy of what lying in her warm bosom would have meant in the face of a cold patriarchy that holds me at arm’s length in my own home. I am a recovering alcoholic and drug addict; mental health issues are a constant and depression, like a friend, is always near. So I struggle to remind myself how far I have come, this too shall pass, and just say, no. This part of me I give freely to the reader, because I know how important a word, any word can be. Sometimes we just need to know someone made it over to the other side, even if they are teetering on the edge. I am a single mother of four. The best and the hardest role one can take on; nothing original. There were days that literally drowning would have been a relief from the cruelty of being underwater sun after sun, moon after moon. I contemplated running away, alcohol, suicide. That is how hard it was, but I also saw the best of me in their eyes. So I stayed; sober, alive. Ironically, if I didn’t have them I would either be a bestselling novelist leading a fabulous life or dead from a self-inflicted tragedy. I am almost sure it is the latter. That is why I have them or perhaps they have me. My children are in every press of the keyboard, every press of pen to paper, every press I extol to the world – read all about them! I don’t have much to offer, so I write for them.

Click to View SpokenWord - Excerpts from "I SPaT"

My words are a tangible offering of my identity free spirit. Yes, I am free of the labels I carried for more than forty years; however, my writing is for those on the brink of liberty; those that can relate to how I made it by and by. It has been nearly ten years since I first completed this book. There are some revisions and poem additions in this updated printing. But the biggest change has come from within. I am leading with my perfected spirit and no longer with my many human flaws. Blessed be those who know me now. My step is lighter, my focus is clearer, my days are better, and my smile is real. If God never did another thing for me, He has already done enough for His praise to continually be in my mouth; now, I feel the same way about me. If I never write another word, make another dollar, or see another day, the love I have for myself will forever be overflowing. But just like God will make a way out of no way, I will write another word, receive recompense for my service and live on throughout eternity. Eventually, my work will reflect the identity free spirit that joyfully abounds within me, but until then my ink will remain black to reflect the struggle, depth, and enduring faith of God’s people; black to reflect God’s everlasting mercy and eternal grace - In Spirit Power and Truth.