RECENT POSTS
My Hidden Burden: Navigating Law School with Depression
Summer 2016. I was working in my new home of Philadelphia. I had left my job as a teacher of three years and had been on medication to treat my depression for about a year. I was talking to God daily and was feeling good about myself, so good that I stopped taking my medication regularly. Eventually I had a huge breakdown. Crying non-stop, yelling at God, asking him why he was letting me suffer, trembling, low blood pressure, the works! And I was supposed to be starting law school in a month?
HOW MINISTRY PREPARED ME FOR ACADEMIA
Ministry is much like academia. Nothing ends. Nothing ends and chaos is swirling about. Nothing ends, chaos is swirling about, tasks must be completed, and deadlines met. This is the life of ministry. This is the life of a pastor. There is rarely a beginning or end to the tasks and projects in the life of a church. I have found that my starting point, as the incoming pastor, may have been the end or middle of the previous pastor’s task or project.
How Much of Myself Do I Share?
Last summer, my father passed away suddenly. I and other people have written elsewhere about the mourning and grief while in graduate school. It’s a long and exhausting process that makes the demands of graduate school much more difficult. It was also a reminder of the strength of my community and the different resources that are (and aren’t) available to me as I move forward into a new reality. Last Fall, I got engaged. Our proposal was a complete surprise – I truly had no idea – and I was over the moon excited to come back from Thanksgiving break and tackle what was sure to be a really challenging end of the semester. I shared the news with my friends from school and from other chapters of my life. Once again, I was reminded of how dope my community is. I was lucky to be able to share my joy with the many wonderful people I’d grown close to over the years. However, during both of these hugely life-changing moments, I found myself asking the same question: who should I tell at school?
How Dance Hlped Prepare Me for the Rigors of Academia
I’ll never forget my first heartbreaking rejection. It came in the form of a thin envelope - a rejection letter from my dream dance company. I felt utterly defeated and found myself ruminating over what could have been, rather than celebrating the slew of acceptances that did come my way. I trudged around with my shoulders low as if the confidence I fought so hard to build was snatched away from me with one simple sentence, “We regret to inform you…” My mom neatly folded up the letter, put it back in its envelope and told me, “Something better is always on the horizon.”
I stopped Wearing Blazers to Class
The month leading up to my first teaching assignment was full of unsolicited, well-intentioned advice from older graduate students who stressed the importance of establishing authority in the classroom.
“You look young,” they said, “and you’re Black and a woman, so it’ll be harder for you.”
I was advised to dress up and assert myself. One friend even suggested I have students refer to me by my last name —Ms. Taylor. I tried saying it out loud to myself, and it sounded strange even to me. So with assurances from my godmother I quickly abandoned that piece of advice. “Hi, I’m Ebony.” I practiced it over and over. In the mirror, walking to the train, even in phone calls with my sister, and my anxiety around the question of authority grew.
“You look young,” they said, “and you’re Black and a woman, so it’ll be harder for you.”
I was advised to dress up and assert myself. One friend even suggested I have students refer to me by my last name —Ms. Taylor. I tried saying it out loud to myself, and it sounded strange even to me. So with assurances from my godmother I quickly abandoned that piece of advice. “Hi, I’m Ebony.” I practiced it over and over. In the mirror, walking to the train, even in phone calls with my sister, and my anxiety around the question of authority grew.
ease on down the road
Have you ever seen pictures of mountain climbers on their journeys? They have their backpacks and the necessary gear. That is it.
When I see pictures like that, I am reminded of the main song from The Wiz “Ease on down, Ease on down the road…don’t you carry nothing that may be a load, just ease on down ease on down the road!” (I want you to imagine me holding that last note all the way out!)
When I see pictures like that, I am reminded of the main song from The Wiz “Ease on down, Ease on down the road…don’t you carry nothing that may be a load, just ease on down ease on down the road!” (I want you to imagine me holding that last note all the way out!)
Reflections on Dr. King in The Classroom 50 Years Later
It has been exactly 50 years since Dr. King was gunned down on the balcony of the Lorraine Motel in Memphis, Tennessee. 50 years since we first began the changing of his narrative. 50 years since the day his dream began to die.
In anticipation of this day, I’ve been doing some work to remind myself of who Dr. King was, what he stood for, and what his vision for this country truly was. In my reflections, I couldn’t help but think of what we’re teaching our children about his legacy. About what we ourselves have been taught about his legacy.
In anticipation of this day, I’ve been doing some work to remind myself of who Dr. King was, what he stood for, and what his vision for this country truly was. In my reflections, I couldn’t help but think of what we’re teaching our children about his legacy. About what we ourselves have been taught about his legacy.
Five Things I learned from 72 Hours of Silence
Two weeks ago, I needed a break. BAD. I had had too many of those “the world is too much with me” kind of days. In an attempt to salvage what was left of the wellness I had stored up I took a 72-hour hiatus from my phone and all social media and here’s what I learned...
