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Hey, I'm 34 years. I've been a lesbian most of my life...I'm here to share my story...

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To Thy Own Self Be True

I was having a text conversation with my soul Sista friend Kiana.   We have always had transparent conversations, and this conversation wasn’t any different. She reminded me that I am a serial dater. I take short breaks between relationships (historically) and don’t really like being without a partner. I had to take a few days and figure that out. Here is the dynamic that I understand about myself. I am by nature—introverted. However, I can also be extroverted when I want to be. For example, I have trouble calling new people on the phone because I am shy, I would rather text them. Furthermore, I can perform spoken word with a room full of people—I have performed spoken word with a room full of people during gay pride. I started to think about it. I enjoy my solitude—it’s how I recharge. I don’t have many visitors at my house. I spend a great deal of my time—alone. Until I’m in a relationship, then I spend most of my time with my partner. I also enjoy spending time with my family....
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How many years did you say??

My son grew up knowing how much I love him and he still does. He also had wonderful opportunities to learn, grow, and have success during his early years. I spent countless hours encouraging him and providing guidance. Most of all, I set an example for him, he watched me earn a BS then an MBA, work and earn a decent living which provided comfort for him and his sister. I also took my children to church. So that they could have faith in God. My son had every opportunity to shine. Despite my parenting efforts, he ended in prison by the time he was 19 years old. I remember sitting in the courtroom with my stomach in knots, in a surreal fog as the sheriff lead my son out in front of the judge, shackled and handcuffed. My heart sank into the bottom of the Atlantic—never to forgive myself, how the hell did I let this happen? Then a quiet voice reminds me: I gave my son everything I had as a mother to give, love, support, encouragement, he made some bad decisions—despite my best intentio...
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Pain and the Promise

In 1997, my 19-year-old brother Joel Joash was murdered in Virginia. This event would turn my family upside down and cause a lifelong battle with grief and heartache. The night he died is etched into the fabric of who I am today. Meaning, that event forever altered who I am in this lifetime. My brother was selling drugs.  My  mother—with all her best efforts couldn’t get him to stop selling drugs. The night he died, he had a confrontation with another drug dealer that would lead to his shooting death. I don’t want to re-live the facts as they are from that night. They cause too much trauma. I want to focus on how I have made it through the pain all these years later. I was 21 when he died, old enough to understand how the justice system failed us, how my brothers unlawful behavior contributed to his own death.   In the beginning of the grief process, all I could do was cry, probably through the first year after. I couldn’t talk about what happened to him, I couldn’t l...
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