Mommy Finger, Baby Finger

“Love yourself, girl, or nobody will.” {J Cole} 

I let my wild, curly hair flow freely and loud — just how I like it.

I throw my shoulders back and smile as I strut through the crowd and my girlfriends walk behind me. I lead them to a couch in the back of the club, which on Wednesday nights is a venue for performers, musicians and artists. It is called Poetic Soul and it is hosted in the heart of downtown Phoenix. I am sure that in the dark room, people are watching as we cut through — they always do. In the background the poet speaks, “I’m not here with this mic for the attention/ For me, this platform is a place where I can release all the stuff in my head.” I can relate — as I recall the first time I walked on stage and did my first spoken word.

You’ll never know someone’s story through their smile.

There was a time when I would hide from crowds. Having eyes on me made me anxious. I simply felt judged and so disconnected. My doubts, scars and fears simply wouldn’t allow me to get close too close to anyone. I was fighting the world and fighting myself.

After years of living through the physical and emotional abuse by my father, being bullied for being “fat,” “ugly” and “hairy,” my college dorm led me to depression and self-harm. Then I would put on makeup and smile so people would think I was pretty. I was obsessed with trying to be perfect. I wanted to so desperately have the perfect body. I spent years changing my hair. I compared myself to girls on social media. I found that hundreds of compliments from people, including my ex-boyfriend never made me feel worthy. I was frustrated by my need for validation. I stayed up at night replaying the worst things my father had said and oftentimes woke up in the middle of a night with a panic attack. My ex and I we were so on and off because of our own issues and by the time I knew I needed to end our relationship, things had become so toxic and then I ended up pregnant.

When I became a mom I felt so lost and weighed down. During my pregnancy I gained over 50 lbs. The body I had worked so hard for had been ruined.

My dreams were ruined.

My idea of having a family … also ruined.

I was my biggest critic.

The truth is, I had no idea who I was. My best friend at the time, Steve, helped me through my pain. “You have to go back to the root of things, Mary (his nickname for me),” he said.  Later, when he saw me depressed, upset and overweight, he said, “Baby girl, I love you, but you can’t let yourself go.”

That was the moment I decided, self-pity wasn’t going to work for me and I reframed the plans I had for myself. I knew I had to believe in myself. I knew that one day I would look at myself and be HAPPY. My daughter needed a role model.

Over the last few years, I’ve set out to see myself in a whole new light. This process of building myself meant forgiving, removing myself from toxic people and situations, re-evaluating my circle, counseling sessions, exercise, spiritual guidance from my church group, reading self-help books, journaling, listening to positive music, podcasts and meditating. Then one day, while still in college — my daughter was one at the time — I was sexually assaulted. After that happened, I went numb and refused to expose myself again in public spaces. But, I knew it was yet another fight I would have to win. Through my faith and by the grace of God, I did. I’m strong because I know what I’ve had to overcome. I’m a lover because I know what it means to get beat down. I smile because I’m no longer insecure of those big teeth of mine I hid for a very long time. I let my curls hang freely because I’m no longer trying to be someone else. My hair, my teeth, my brown skin, my scars are all part of my identity. They are a part of my love story.