I am a poser.

I WANT TO LOVE WITH MY HEART WIDE OPEN. yes, you heard that right. I want to fall in love, hard- and I know. It seems so unlike me. Falling in love? I laugh in the face of love…. and then end up crying on the ride home. Its a painful and tireless reality.

In the past years, my diversion towards love has been interesting. I have spent much of my time trying to suppress my innate human emotions as a coping mechanism, despite the pian it may cause me in the future. ( shoutout to self taught therapy). B

I am here to finally admit to the world, and myself,  that i am a hopeless romantic.

*gross*

I mean it in the most loving way. I grew up on disney movies and Jennifer Aniston movies. There is honestly no other direction for me to go.

When I think of my future partners, I think of myself, because I am perfect. Just kidding, but really. I think of someone who doesn’t take this world seriously. Someone who understands that our time here is limited and no one has time for lukewarm, watered down personalities.

I want to be with someone who understands politics. Not for the sake of debate, but for me. Someone who understands the cards that i was dealt with in this worlds as a Poor Black Woman, who is also an immigrant. I have learned that If i had to learn internalized sexism and racism, then my partner can too.

 

Someone who is compassionate, more than me.

 

Most of all, someone who understands the power of love.

 

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shit show

I have been feeling the weight of the world suffocating me. Its difficult for me to continue living my mundane life knowing that out there, children are being detained, and forcibly removed from their parents and all of this happens, and my akwnowledgment of it is never enough. In addition to that, theres this hovering guilt associated with the fact that I didn’t know sooner (as if i could have done anything).

American politics are a shit show. This world is a chaotic conglomeration of the most foul shit to ever exist.

Im tired of existing in this little facade. Living life in my little suburban bubble while everyone dear and close to me seems to suffer through the hands of people who can’t even acknowledge their existence. What is wrong with this world. What is wrong with the white men on top playing god with their flimsy hands. We have already established, a speckle of holiness has never crossed their paths and for that they are bitter.

If your mission as a human is to not participate in the betterment of marginalized people, or even simply other humans, then what is the point?

I think it in important question to think about. Our time here on earth is finite yet so limitless.

Politics in the Pool

The last place someone would attribute politics to is the pool. It’s practically a kids bar, a place where under 14 year olds go to chat and lounge over orange juice and the smell of chlorine.

I began working at Miller Pool when I was 16 years old. Walking in fresh faced and naive, the last thing I would ever want to do was disappoint my managers. My managers at the time were both women; one white and one black. They were a powerful duo but obviously, the one who was black had the most in common with me and we quickly became friends.

Amidst our many conversations, one that sticks till today is that of race. Natasha, who has worked for my city, for years, was actually assistant manger. Despite her experience working in pools with “troubled kids” and living in the community, Natasha didn’t believe Emma, who didn’t have as much experience should be Natasha’s boss.

As our conversation progressed, I could see Natasha maybe, for the first time becoming aware of her disadvantage as a black women working for the city. Natasha, black and fat, could never stand a chance against the Cheery and Preppy Blonde that Emma was. Its a story all too familiar for black women in the work force.

Today I go to work and the pool is still as loud as it was when I was 16. There are black children barely containing their excitement running up the stairs, the lifeguards whistling at them to stop. Children playing the color game, and toddlers reluctantly jumping into the pool from the grates. The atmosphere is always full of energy, whether that be positive or negative.

Of the many comments I get working at a pool in the intercity, the worst comes from my coworkers; the lifeguards. Miller Pool lifeguards are paid 2 dollars more than regular lifeguards, as incentive for working in the “ghetto”. My city is severely segregated. The parents of every suburban neighborhood obviously would never allow their children to guard in such a dangerous area. This means, Miller Pool attracts older kids, who may or may not live in predominately white areas but nonetheless are white. The way they talk about these kids, is disheartening and very dehumanizing. Without considering their bias and accessing their environments white lifeguards mock the way black children talk, they collect barrettes as trophies and parade around the pool as if they are warriors carrying the heads of their colonizers,  but most blaring and disarming is the constant whistle blowing that is directed towards children who are just… children.

I constantly have to decipher if these lifeguards are talking about children, or criminals.

Its quite clear that lifeguards are not aware of their unconscious bias and are enforcing their own deep-seated fear of black people and continuing to criminalize black children.

The racial disparities between white and black children doesn’t end once school is over, it begins when pools open for summer. Our pool has the most banned and barred children of any other pool in my city. Similarly, black children are more likely to be kicked out or suspended from school than any other race of children all over the nation. It’s not a matter of if black people (or children) are inherently criminal, its an issue of awareness and giving these children what they need. Many participants don’t have access to swim lessons, goggles, or pool toys. Some of them can not even afford to buy swimsuits. Im not even sure if they are fed everyday.

Politics follow us everywhere and its ignorant to turn colorblind when it comes to learning what these children need. My pool is black when there is an incident that requires security but suddenly race should not be taken into account when buying extra goggles or swimsuits to alleviate the problem is brought up.

We are doing a disservice to these kids if we do not put them first. Their safety, their comfort, and and most importantly their humanity.

 

Double Life

Everyday that I continue to live, is a day where this double life I live is enforced. My “homeland” is a place I have never touched. I am a foreigner inside a country that I am forcing myself to call home. Its interesting all of the communities I have meandered in and out of. For instance, today, I spent the day at a party with Jean and Randy. It was extremely uncomfortable at first but eventually I warmed up to it. As I was siting, I thought to myself, “who would’ve thought in a million years I would be sitting in this room full of retired old people. It was basically a choir get together but with pretentious progressives and I have to say, I’m not sure how I fit in.

What I gathered from this experience is far more daunting then having to meet a bunch of strangers. Instead, what I learned is that, their life is not something Im for sure I can attain, at least their lifestyle. The topic of conversation circled around the expansion of medicaid and as the spokespeople talked, all I could think about was how crazy it is that the future of the people I love, like my friends and family (poor people)  relies so heavily on that of people who brush passed them in grocery stores with a snarky looks on their faces. But it was an interesting insight into the world of what it means to be white and successful. Not entirely sure a lifestyle I want to strive for but certainly and interesting experience.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that there is this similarity between the outdoorsy young liberals I work with and the older progressives I spent time with today. The micro aggressions have yet to fade with age nor does the pretentiousness but it seems to me the people that ostracized and practically rejected me are catching on to something I am not. For better or for worst, I’m sitting here writing about them, they in an instant will forget about me but for better or for worst, they are living a fulfilling life.

Im curious if they would ever be willing to sit down with my people and have conversations where their creditionals are not highlighted tho

On dating a man who is okay

All too often, as women we are forced to see the good in people. It is our job to look for the potential within people because we allow men to have this fictional area where they are the most ideal version of themselves. We as a society, want women to stand by their man when they are in their lowest, to stand by men who fail us constantly, to stay with men who might not actually have any quantifying qualities. And I say this to us women. there are no men out there who have the capabilities to be as strong, empathetic, and soft as we do. In the words of We see men, they don’t see us and thats a privilege worth noting. You don’t have to settle. You don’t have to be with someone because they have potetntional and I cannot stress this enough. I have been that girl. I have dated people who idealistically where perfect but thats all fantasy. In reality, the reality of the person I was dating was not so pretty. Ive dated people who have been rude, selfish, and just small minded, and that in turn is very reflective of me, and the person I am through the things I allow to infiltrate my life. (lol men).

Its weird, ever since I was a little girl, I would dream of marrying the guy. the one is is loving, and romantic, who cares about me but also the entire world and not for all the wrong reasons, but for real, genuinely because they care about people. I am like that, so I have to believe there are people out there who believe in the things I do, even if they have different lives. Im hopeful because sometimes hope is all I have.

Summer Boys Hymn

Im thinking about publishing poetry again but this time under a pseudonym. Theres something about my poetry that is just too “normal”. By that, I mean not jarring enough. The poetry world loves shock. Im not necessarily gay enough or black enough to scream it to the world yet, but maybe I will get there.  This is all really funny since I’m me and I am the furthest person from normal there is. My name literally spells eccentric. You see -> Nyade(eccentric)t!

Anyways, I will be going by the name Michael Jove, in honor of my first love Michael Jackson. Mike Jove, or MJ is a boring white man, who plays dungeons and dragons and steals ideas from women all of the time. It will take a couple of months to get his name into the scene, but soon enough he will be there just because boring white men seem to make We will see how well this works. If it is effective then I will know that my poetry is not that bad, but if it doesn’t work I will come to terms with the idea that my poetry is terrible and people just don’t like it and afterwards, I will become a hermit and live in life of squalor for the rest of my life as I will isolate myself from everyone I know!