How do you feel about cold weather?
I despise it. Growing up in a large city in the Midwest (Chicago, Il), I didn’t know where, but I knew I would not live the rest of my life in a cold city. I’ve been happily living in Texas for 26 years, and I’d take the heat over the cold any day.
I often say it’s in my blood to live in a warm climate because both my parents, siblings, and extended family were born on an island. 🏝 My ideal temperature is 80 to 85 degrees, but I can tolerate warmer.
What are your favorite brands and why?
With regard to brands of products I use to take care of my hair and body, I prefer products with the most natural ingredients and with the least amount of chemicals. I also prefer brands that are conscious and respectful of the environment and the location where the product is sourced. I’ve tried many brands over the years, and I can’t say I’m only committed to particular ones. As I’ve honed in on what’s important to me in a product, I do have some preferences.
Generally, I love to support black owned (African American and across the Carribbean/African Diaspora) brands for all of my needs beyond personal grooming because I want to support my people. If I know a brand is black owned, I will likely try it.
For hair products, I prefer black owned brands because, as a black woman, I believe those products are created just for my hair texture and will help my hair thrive. I also want to support the brand.
For face and body care, I prefer any brand that has minimal chemicals and more natural and organic ingredients like essential oils and nutrients. I also prefer responsibly sourced products because many of those beneficial ingredients come from different parts of the world that may be impoverished, not well developed, and/or have limited resources and economic opportunities.
I’m open to trying different products that meet my preferences.
Creole, French, Spanish…It’s no fun knowing a little bit of several languages, but not knowing how to speak either of them fluently. My parents and siblings were all born in Port Au Prince, Haiti 🇭🇹 so they spoke fluent Haitian Creole and French. I was the youngest and born in the United States.
Although I was exposed to these languages, we mostly spoke English in our home. My mom and siblings spoke English to me. However, I do recall my mom telling me there was a time when I solely spoke Creole. It had to be before I started school.
To complicate matters further, in high school, I was in a program where I had to take Spanish. I thought this would be my time to finally learn the language, but NOOOOO! I really wanted to be in this program because it would put me on a path for college. So I learned Spanish for 3 years and was even quite good at it. I earned a college scholarship from my Spanish class.
I decided that college was my time to finally learn French. I took French classes for two years, enjoyed them, and learned a lot. Now, I have these 3 languages swimming in my head and understand each of them in different capacities.
When my son and I visited the Dominican Republic for a mission trip with our church in 2019, I met Haitians who spoke all 3 languages – Haitian Creole, French, and Spanish. They were our interpreters. I was fascinated.
I loved our time with them because they are kind, professional, and Godly people. They shared their experience and thoughts about Haiti with me, and I loved making new friends with other Haitians. We still keep in contact. I blogged about our trip in the posts: DR Chronicles 2019: Lost in translation, Dominican Republic (DR) Chronicles 2019: Comfort Zone, and Dominican Republic (DR) Chronicles 2019: Food.
I want to learn to speak French and Haitian Creole fluently. I haven’t set a time frame yet, but it will happen.
Bloganuary Day 26 prompt!
This is an interesting question because in deciding on a response, I got to thinking about what makes the chore challenging – hard to do or I don’t like to do it. Perhaps, it’s a bit of both?
Hands down, I don’t like to throw away the trash, so I simply don’t do it. It’s a task for my husband, Bryan. But me not liking to throw away trash goes way back to my upbringing and socialization. When I was growing up, my mummy, a single, for a period, Haitian mom, assigned us all tasks to complete while she was at work.
It was typical for her daughters to be assigned to the dishes, cooking, and the bathroom, and her only son was assigned to the floors and trash. Haitian culture is patriarchal, and chores were assigned based on gender roles. Mummy’s generation instilled this into us from a young age.
I’ve internalized much of this into my adulthood. It is convenient that Bryan, who is seven years older than me, doesn’t mind taking out the trash. It’s likely possible that he was reared with the notion that men do the grunge work. I will ask him.
Even if I decided to let go of gender-based (the ones I’m aware of) ideals and norms, I still would prefer not to take out the trash because I don’t like to do it. There are other chores I do that can be considered grunge work and challenging, like cleaning the stove and cleaning my walk-in shower, but I will do them, unlike taking out the trash.
Bloganuary Day 12
Growing up, especially as a teenager, I never thought of mummy as my best friend, let alone friend. She made it clear we weren’t friends by her stern approach to parenting. Plus, I’ve heard her boast many times about not viewing her children as friends. Mummy was tough. She lived a hard life as an immigrant from Haiti. She worked hard to provide for her four children…much of that time as a single parent. She learned how to speak English, worked jobs she could with her limited education, helped support her own siblings/family, and laid out a foundation for us of strong moral and spiritual values.
It wasn’t until much later in life, well after I had children, I realized she was my best friend, and of course, much more than a best friend. When I think of a best friend, I think of someone whose been there for you through thick and thin, who knows your family, who has witnessed your history, who you spend lots of time getting to know, who tells you the truth when you’re right and wrong, and who demonstrates their love and support over and over again. My mom was all of that and more. She always had the best intentions for me even if I couldn’t see it at the time.
My relationship with mummy was rough even through adulthood (though not as intense). She was strict and fearful. I was stubborn and wanted to make my own way. That’s the American spirit many other cultures fear for their children – the spirit of Independence. After all, I was born in the United States…the only one of my siblings who was. What more could have been expected? She served as my constant reminder through her example that caring for others is necessary in life. It was not just about me and my independence.
The values I embody: faith in God, hope, care for others, family, support, keeping my word, doing my best, working hard, being a nurturer, being the bigger person, forgiveness…I learned from her.
It’s been almost four years since she’s passed and the hardest thing for me is not being able to have a reciprocal conversation with her. We spoke almost daily, especially the last 4 or 5 years of her life. I speak to her in my mind on occasion though. It’s hard not being able to experience her reaction to all the good that’s happened in my life, including my husband and children’s lives. I want her to know, “See we’re OK. You didn’t need to worry so much because we’re GOOD.”
On this Mother’s Day, if you’re grieving the loss of your mother or mother figure, you’re not alone. Extend yourself some grace, cherish the memories, love on your own children and family, and prioritize rest and relaxation when you can.
Happy Mother’s Day from my heart to yours.
Where did the time go? My trip to the Dominican Republic (DR) occurred over 3 months ago. Upon our return to Texas, it didn’t take my son, Caleb, and I long to get back to our busy lives. However, the experience is implanted in my heart forever. This may be my most compelling blog post yet in my DR Chronicles series. You can read 4 other posts here, here, here , and here.
This DR trip was very personal for me. After my mom, mummy, passed away two years ago, I felt even more compelled to visit the country where she was born. My parents, grandparents, great grandparents, extended family, and siblings were all born in Haiti. As the youngest of four, I’m the only one in my immediate family who was born in the United States. I’ve always wanted to visit Haiti. I’ve asked mummy many times if we could go together, but she would say every time that she never wanted to return. She said there was nothing left. Mummy took her final trip when I was about 12 years old.
Chicago, June 2, 2017- Patrick, Mylene, Me, Mummy, & Gina
You may be wondering how we ended up in the DR when Haiti has been (and still is) the destination. Well, as it was approaching a year of mummy’s passing, I learned that my church, LifeAustin, was leading a mission trip to Haiti. I HAD to go. Caleb said he wanted to go. We had just a couple of months to gather the funds. Then, BOOM! Riots ensued in Haiti after a hike in gas prices. The U.S. Secretary of State eventually put Haiti on a Level 4 travel ban. My son and I had just gotten our malaria vaccinations. Shortly after, the trip was canceled. No trip to Haiti in 2018 although the travel ban was lifted later in the year.
Another Level 4 travel ban occurred in the beginning of 2019. At this point, the nonprofit organization, Mission of Hope, had expanded their reach to Turks and Caicos and the Dominican Republic, as Haitian populations in these areas continue to grow. LifeAustin decided on the DR. I was excited to go although with all of the rioting, I was beginning to see why mummy never wanted to return.
“Lost in Translation” is a fitting title for this post because most people don’t know I have 3 half-learned languages swirling around in my head. I grew up with Kreyol (I’ve also seen it spelled Creole…maybe that’s the Louisiana version-I’ll research later) and French, took 3 years of high school Spanish (I preferred French, but couldn’t take it…long story), and took 2 years of college French. Mummy told me I only spoke Kreyol until I was about 3 years old. Here lies the complication of attending a mission trip in a Spanish speaking country with Kreyol, French, and Spanish speaking Haitians.
I attempted to use some of the language I knew while in the DR, and at times, I was so tongue tied. For example, at one of the women’s meetings, most of the women spoke Spanish and a few spoke Kreyol. As more women joined, I found myself not responding in the appropriate language or not knowing what to say altogether. The language barrier was definitely frustrating. I think it’s even more frustrating to comprehend what is being said, but not be able to respond. This is me.
Despite the language barrier, what I do think was translated was respect and love.
The experience of being in the DR and not knowing the language reminded me of the judgement I’d felt growing up in Chicago, which has a relatively large Haitian population. I didn’t feel judgement from anyone in the DR (except from probably my own self-judgment), but the memories resurfaced. Was it my fault I couldn’t speak Kreyol or French? Was it mummy’s fault? How do I hold onto the Haitian customs and language, and not be too American, although I’m American. These are not pleasant memories. Growing up, I had a constant feeling of inadequacy.
I lived in multiple worlds: the American world, the Haitian world, the African-American world, the white world, the Catholic world, and the Jehovah’s Witness world. Each world had its own rules and norms. I never felt like I was fully accepted into any of them. Yet, I was expected to navigate in and out of each world seamlessly. I know now it was an impossible feat.
It wasn’t until I met a Haitian nurse in my early twenties at my doctor’s office that I started feeling less inadequate about not speaking Kreyol or French. She knew I was Haitian by my name and encouraged me not to feel bad about myself because I didn’t speak the language. She said there are many Haitians like me. When I looked in her eyes, I saw acceptance.
My absolute favorite part of the DR trip was getting to know the Haitian translators hired by Mission of Hope. They were the closest I got to speak, for an extended period of time, to Haitians. I wanted to hear their thoughts on Haiti – the people, country, politics, and poverty. I was so impressed that they each moved to the DR, learned Spanish and a new culture while maintaining their native languages. In a way, I was envious.
LPC with MOH Haitian translator, Robert. LPC
I’m proud of each of them and admire their resilience. I come from a resilient people. I’ve witnessed this resilience in my family. I’m resilient. I particularly bonded with Pierreson (cover photo). If I had a little brother, it would be Pierreson. Both Pierreson and Robert have a protective presence. They’re strong and confident. They have families of their own to support. They’re admirable men.
LPC and beautiful MOH Haitian translator, Dan’a. LPC
The whole experience of the DR had me vowing to make steps to learn Kreyol and French more fluently. I don’t know where to begin. When do I find the time? I welcome suggestions from my readers. I haven’t given myself a timeline, but this is definitely a goal. I’ve done a little bit of exploring, but haven’t committed yet. Writing this blog post has served as a reminder.
Last day in Santiago with these two MOH Haitian translators. They did a wonderful job! LPC
I’m eternally grateful mummy made a way for her children to experience a better life in the United States…not without a lot of help. I knew of her experiences of hunger and trauma in Haiti. Yet, she made a way for us. How do you translate that feeling? Even though I’m here in the United States and have never been to Haiti, my heart is with my people in Haiti. I may not speak the language, but Haiti is in my blood. I will always be a proud Haitian.
It was confirmed last night that my trip to Haiti with my son, in less than 2 weeks, has been canceled due to the recent protests and riots regarding gas price increases. I’m very disappointed, to say the least, and mostly feel bad my 17-year son won’t have this experience for now. Of course, our safety is of most concern. Although I was going to commemorate my mom, if she knew of these developments, she too, would discourage us from going. It would also likely bring up sad memories of what it was like for her to grow up in Haiti. I can hear, in her voice, recounts of her experiences with poverty and the corrupt Haitian government. I remember stories about the terrible reign of President Jean Claude Duvalier (aka Papa Doc) and his son, Baby Doc back in the 70’s and 80’s.
I’ve been thinking a lot this week of what it must be like to live in Haiti as I’ve read several articles and watched a few videos about the protests. In my opinion, there has not been enough media coverage on the events. I suspect the riots have slow downed because I saw through my social media feed, the government was cleaning up some of the damage in Port Au Prince. I suppose what I’m getting at is there was no problem covering the chaos, but will there be as much coverage about the recovery? I can’t deny the Secretary of State Travel Advisory has Haiti on a Level 4 travel ban, the highest, which indicates “no travel” to Haiti. I’ve gleaned from people I know and others how Haiti is viewed. I wonder do people or governments (ours, theirs, others) want Haiti to succeed or do they want to continue to just refer to Haiti as the “poorest country in the Western hemisphere”…who can’t get themselves together. Google Haiti and see what you get. I get the country needs to get themselves out of their situation too. Haiti also happens to be comprised of the only people whose ancestors successfully fought themselves out of slavery and were forced to pay a large sum of money to France for that “freedom”. There’s so much complexity to why it’s poor, how to help, and how to help them help themselves.
I know how I view Haiti- a place that has a resilient, prideful people, the place where my family was born, a place with a rich culture, a place that holds the key to who I am, and a place I must visit. For all the positive reasons I want to visit, it’s the negative reasons about Haiti that prevent us from going to serve them. I also believe that pride is a sickness for the people there. Haitians are a prideful people. I see it in my family (and extended family).
Prior to the most recent riots and protests. I asked my oldest sister if we should plan a trip together to Haiti- the siblings. She indicated I was doing it the best way…through my church. My church, LifeAustin, coordinated the trip through Mission of Hope Haiti (MOH). MOH coordinates trips to Haiti with churches all over. I think there are more protections working through agencies such as this one. MOH informed our church contact they were canceling the next few trips. We don’t know for how long yet. I hope to get more answers on Sunday.
It’s definitely a bummer my son and I aren’t going at this time, but things happened as they should have. In this process, I was reminded that my family and friends will support me no matter what as we received a significant amount in financial donations from them to get us to Haiti. I was reminded, if you ask, you will receive, but again, you have to ask. There was no shame or pride in my game. Over the years, I’ve worked hard to release pride and it’s not easy.
What I ask of you is to pray for Haiti. Educate yourself on the country if you haven’t already. I come from a long line of beautiful, resilient, and strong people. One day, I will see Haiti with my own eyes.
Ok. Ok. I’ve been slacking on my blog. In all fairness, I’ve had an unusually busy May with two work travel trips, Mother’s day and my birthday. May was also very emotionally draining. May served as a painful reminder that my mom is gone. I felt as though I was grieving all over again during my birthday weekend. Eventually, it passed, but it took its toll. I’m still not getting enough sleep. I feel like I’m struggling to keep up at work. I’ve decreased the duration and intensity of my workouts mostly because of my long work days. However, I did kiss goodbye my love affair with pastries, cookies, and other sweets and stopped eating them cold turkey.
I also made a monumental decision in May that is exciting and daring – my son and I are going on a week long mission trip to Haiti. When I learned our church was planning this for July, I knew I had to go to commemorate my mom, especially since July is the one year anniversary of her passing. Knowing I’m finally going to visit the island where my parents and siblings were born has eased some of my sadness from missing her. The sadness has been replaced with excitement.
Initially, I thought I would go solo, but my son, Caleb, said he wanted to go too, which surprised me…even after he learned what we would be doing. I’m really impressed that he knows the purpose of the trip is to serve and he is still all in. I’ll write more about the trip in later posts. I wasn’t completely sure how we would produce funds for both of us, but I made a faith move. We sent letters to family and friends asking them to donate on our behalf. I knew there was no turning back once I emailed the letters. We’ve already gotten some donations. Caleb is looking for a summer job to help, plus he wants to save for a new laptop.
June came with a lovely visit from my sister early in the month. What’s so sweet is she’s promised to visit us in Austin every year like my mom used to do. My mom has come to Texas more than anyone on either side of our families, which magnifies how much she supported me.
As much as I’d like to maintain some balance in my life, something inevitably comes up that tips the scales, so I have to adjust. For example, after my kids dental appointment this week, we learned one needs braces and the other needs several fillings for all the cavities in his mouth. Really?
myenlightenedlife 