Good Friends

“Two people are better than one. They can help each other in everything they do.”- Ecclesiastes 4:9

I serve in Children’s Ministry at my church. As I was prepping for this week’s lesson, the topic of friendship struck me. I teach 2.5-4 year old kids and never imagined their lesson would speak to my heart! The lesson was based on the friendship of David and Jonathan (1 Samuel 18:1-4). What a beautiful picture of real friendship. The bottom line of the lesson that we wanted the children to walk away with was “God gives us good friends!” What I didn’t expect was that God would use the children’s message to remind me of how God has blessed me with good friends.

I consider myself a good friend. I give wholeheartedly to my friendships. Because of this, I have high expectations of my friends. These expectations are sadly, but realistically not always met. However, I am grateful for those special friends who don’t just meet my expectations in our friendship, but go above and beyond. I don’t know what to say except thank you.

Thank you to the friends who actually answer the phone when I call, and respond to my text messages the same day.

Thank you to the friends who show up, and not just when it’s convenient but show up all the time.

Thank you to the friends that give, even in times when their lives are in shambles and they don’t have anything extra to give, yet they find a way to give out of the love they have for me.

Thank you to the friends who give repeatedly and expect nothing in return.

Thank you to the friends who walk with me, cry with me, sit with me, be with me, and love me.

Thank you to the friends that love and support me in the ways I need without me ever asking.

God gives us good friends because he is a good good father and loves us. I commit to expressing my love and gratitude to the people God has blessed me to call friends. 

My Hope

I first heard Hope’s Anthem in September 2014. It was during the time my church, Bethel Cincinnati, was still meeting at the Corryville Recreation Center gym. I remember sitting on the right side of the gym that particular Sunday. I’d never heard Hope’s Anthem before; however, as I heard the music and read the lyrics, my heart was comforted in such powerful ways. I felt like God was speaking directly to me through that song. It was as if God knew exactly what I needed to hear at that very moment. September 2014 was a hard time for me. I remember feeling as if I was in a valley and that God had forgotten about me. Hearing that song on that particular Sunday reminded me that God had not forgotten about me and was there right beside me.

Fast forward to Sunday April 10, 2016. My church sang Hope’s Anthem again. I’d heard the song on many Sundays in the past, but this week was different. The song touched my heart in the same powerful way it did almost 2 years prior. I felt God’s spirit so clearly and became overwhelmed as we were singing the song. I remember thinking, “wow this song really touched me today”, but I couldn’t put my finger on why that was the case. I now know that song was preparing me for the reminder I needed.

The reminder that my hope is in Jesus. Not in my circumstances. Not in my job. Not in school. Not in my relationships. Not in people. My hope is in Jesus.

Because my hope is in Jesus, I can push through the storms that come my way. Because my hope is in Jesus, I can smile in the midst of my heart aching. Because my hope is in Jesus, I can walk through life knowing and believing that, “And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to his purpose.” Romans 8:28.

Although there are moments that I am emotionally exhausted, overcome with sadness, and enraged in anger, I am confident where my hope is. I know that I serve the most powerful God who loves and cares for me deeply. Because I know this“... I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong” 2 Corinthians 12:10”

Hope’s Anthem

He’s awakening the hope in me
By calling forth my destiny
He’s breathing life into my soul
I will thirst for Him, and Him alone

He has come like the rain
That showers on the barren plain
So my heart and tongue confess
Jesus Christ, the hope of man

My hope is in You, God
I am steadfast, I will not be moved
I’m anchored, never shaken
All my hope is in You

He’s bringing hope to the hopeless
And giving His heart to the broken
And sharing His home with the orphan
He is the joy, He is my joy

He is the hope of the nations
The Father’s heart we’re embracing
He is the song we’re declaring
He is the joy, He is my joy

Why so downcast oh, oh my soul
Put your hope in God alone

I'm Tired

I've been trying to find a way to describe how I felt about the #Blksapblackout that occurred on Friday March 25, 2016. This was a movement of Black Student Affairs Professionals that took over the Student Affairs Professionals Facebook page with the sharing of articles, videos, and personal stories addressing the experiences of Black people in higher education." (Ramiz, 2016). One of my Black colleagues, Bulaong Ramiz, writes a great blog post about the #Blackout for those unfamiliar. 

Since poetry is the heartbeat of my soul, I decided to write a poem entitled "I'm Tired" that is a reflection of my feelings regarding the #Blksapblackout and how it feels being a Black student affairs professional.

I’m Tired

I’m tired of having to explain myself,

Anytime anything happens to me.

I’m so tired of having to make a case,

Because my truth they don’t want to see.

I’m tired of exerting energy,

With no reprieve in sight.

I’m so tired I have no words to express this,

Why do I always have to fight the good fight?

I’m tired of being twice as good,

When they can get away with being bad.

I’m so tired of playing by the rules,

That weren’t created for me to pass.

I’m tired of being at the margins,

Which forces me to exert my voice loud.

I’m so tired of convincing folks why my story matters,

Trying to convince them why I’m so proud.

I’m tired of having to check my emotions,

Because it won’t help “bring the conversation in”.

I’m so tired of being told my anger should be managed,

That I should hold my true feelings in.

I’m tired of people’s feelings being held above mine,

Which scars like a whip and chain.

I’m so tired of being treated like someone’s slave,

With the master controlling the game.

I’m tired of being told her shame should concern me,

When she’s the one who called me a “whining petulant child”.

I’m so tired of my hurt being marginalized,

Ignored, neglected and forced to hide.

I’m so tired of empty apologies.

I’m so tired of the blank stares.

I’m so tired of having to suffer for your learning sake.

I’m so tired, this shit ain’t fair!

Second Time Around

I’ve been wanting to write this poem titled “No one told me” regarding my doctoral experience. I have some thoughts on paper and some thoughts in my mind, but it hasn’t been coming together the way I hoped it would. This is discouraging because my plan is to share this poem at a professional conference I’m presenting at next month. Lately, my poetry is not where I want it to be. I have good thoughts that come to me, but they come during the most inopportune times like when I am driving or in the shower. Clearly, this makes it difficult to get my ideas on paper. This has led me to feel down regarding my writing and contemplating how much of a poet I really am.

I decided to pause and take a deep breath. As I did, I remembered the last in-class assignment one of my professors gave last semester. My classmates and I had a different reflection question, but only had 10 minutes to respond to the question. My question was something about how my time in the doctoral program has been impacted by my previous experience as a Master’s student, because I completed my Master’s degree in the same program that I am in currently. However, for my question my professor insisted that I write my reflection as a poem. Initially, I was irritated! I felt like it was unfair to expect me to write a poem, and a good one at that, in only 10 minutes. Meanwhile, my classmates only had to write a reflection and could do it how they wanted. However, anyone who knows me well knows that I’m always up for a good challenge, so I did it! In 10 minutes, I wrote a poem entitled “Second Time Around”, which is below. This poem is a reflection on how it feels to be in graduate school, in the same place, for a second time.

Remembering this experience reminded me that even when the odds are against me, I’m up against a deadline, or I don’t have anything worthwhile to say that deep down I know I am a poet. I know I can write and that is what encouraged me to pick up the pen again and get at it, because I can finish my new poem before the conference in March. I hope my story of struggle encourages and reminds you that you too have it in you to do whatever you need to do. And perhaps you only need 10 minutes.

Second Time Around

Second time around feels easier.

Not because it is, but because I know what to expect.

I know the rules to the game,

How to let go of the shame,

And let my light shine.

Second time around feels stronger.

Like I developed the muscles needed for this battle.

I now know how to fight,

How to find the light,

And keep on pushing, even when it’s hard.

Second time around feels confidence.

Flowing through my veins like the Ohio River.

I know my voice should be at the center,

How to speak and not wither,

Like the fall leaves at winter.

Second time around feels courage.

Vulnerability isn’t an option anymore, but my only choice.

I want my authenticity to shine,

As I walk the fine line,

Of the academy that was never created for me.

Second time around feels grateful.

An opportunity I never take for granted.

I will use my privilege to make positive changes,

While giving myself grace through the stages,

That this second time journey has afforded me.

Second time around.

Lessons from my niece

On Saturday, I had the opportunity to spend the entire day with my niece and it was just what my soul needed. She has developed a love of baking and I couldn’t be happier! As an avid baker myself, I’m so excited that we share this interest. We went to a cake decorating class, had lunch at Benihana, and then went to Kroger to buy baking supplies so she could make cupcakes for her class. I won’t go into details regarding’s each of those things (see pictures below), but instead want to share some life lessons I was reminded of by spending time with my niece.

·         Lesson 1: Let go of fear- As soon as we arrived at the cake decorating class, my niece was ready to jump right in! She looked over her supplies, asked me some questions, and got at it! She’s never been to a cake decorating class before, but that didn’t stop her from just doing it. She used so many different colors and decorating tips. She was so adventurous! When I decorate, I’m so fearful of making a mistake that I stop enjoying the process. I allow fear to plague me in powerful ways. This doesn’t just happen with baking either. I allow fear to take residence in my heart and mind far too often. Where in your life has fear taken over? How can you let fear go? My niece taught me that when we let go of fear, we can create beautiful things.

                                                             

                                                

·         Lesson 2: Speak your mind- Most people that know me would probably agree that I don’t have a hard time doing this! I probably speak before thinking far too often. When I was with my niece though, I was captivated by her willingness to speak her mind about everything! She talked about school, family, friends, what she good at, and the list goes on and on. She didn’t hesitate to speak about how she was really feeling. I was envious of her courage to share so authentically and she’s only 8! How many times have you wanted to speak up and share authentically but didn’t? Where do you censor yourself, when you shouldn’t? I pondered these questions after spending time with my niece. I feel so privileged that she trusts me with her whole self, what a blessing.

·         Lesson 3: Do what you love- This lesson was reaffirmed during my time with my niece. It’s so easy in life to let “being busy” allow us to forget what we love. To continue to put things off until it’s the right time. Who says we’re promised tomorrow? When I woke up on Saturday I was exhausted, I had a sore throat, and I just wanted to stay in my bed. However, I had an entire day planned with my niece. Once I picked her up, my mood completely changed. Her energy and excitement to do something she loved with her favorite auntie (I’m kidding Tosha, lol), was enough for me to change my attitude. I know that as a kid, she probably has more flexibility to do what she loves, but I believe we can all find the time. We don’t need an entire day; an hour or even 15 minutes could suffice. What do you love that you’ve abandoned? How do you get it back? My niece reminded me how much I love baking and how I need to make time for it. #NoMoreExcuses

My niece is confident, passionate, curious, intelligent, and hilarious!  I am continually amazed by the way she takes on the world. She’s a true gem. Being her auntie is a blessing that I’m so grateful for. She reminded me to let go of fear, speak my mind, and do what I love. What lessons can you learn from those around you? You never know who might be able to teach you something; are you open to receiving it?

Until next time,

Mika 

I'm back

I’m back! So, if you’ve been following me you might have noticed that I haven’t written in my blog in almost a year! I know, I can’t believe it either! Writing has been a love of mine for as long as I can remember. I remember doodling in the corners of papers, making up creative stories, and getting my love of writing poetry from my daddy, who’s an amazing poet! Writing has been a stress reliever, a place to be authentically myself, and an opportunity to breathe.

Then, that all changed. My full-time work schedule kept my days packed and made writing feel like a distant dream. Then, I started a doctoral program as a full-time student, which changed my view of writing. Writing was no longer fun for me, but instead stressful. I found myself on the outskirts. Academic writing was not where my heart was. I felt my poetic voice was not valued. I wrestled with either playing the game to survive or resisting the urge to conform in order to save my soul. It was exhausting. It was hard. It was eye opening.

I had a lot of time over Christmas break to reflect and consider what I wanted and needed to thrive this year. What was missing? Where was the gap? After lots of time in my head and feelings, I realized writing was something that kept coming up. I just couldn’t shake it. I have a note on my phone with dozens of poems I’ve never finished, blog post ideas that didn’t feel good enough to post, and just thoughts. As I read those lists, I decided I would not let expectations of the type of writer I should be influence my love of writing.

Having the ability to pursue a Ph.D. is a blessing that I am daily grateful for. I will continue academic writing in those spaces as a way to survive and ultimately finish the journey I began. However, I will also write how I want to write, using my voice, in my own way. I will use my blog to share my voice and perspective authentically and this excites me!

I want to be clear about what my blog will be:

·         I will write when I feel like it! I can’t promise you a specific frequency, but instead I want to be inspired to share when I have something to say. It might be weekly, monthly or you may hear from me every other day if I’m feeling inspired! I want to write because I love writing.

·         I will share some of my poetry. It’s been hard for me to admit it, but I am a poet and poetry is my favorite way to write. I look forward to sharing my love of writing with you in this way.

·         I will write informally! This is not an academic blog, but a space for me to resist the urge to believe only one type of writing should be privileged. That means I’ll be using contractions a lot, speaking in first or third person, and sometimes writing in fragments. If this bothers you, my blog is not for you!

·         I will share about a variety of topics (family, politics, school, baking, friendship, funny, sad, serious and the list goes on and on). I am more than a student. I am more than a wife. I am more than a Christian. I am more than happy. I am more than scared. I want you to see all of me.

·         I will have fun. I will enjoy the freedom of writing how I want, when I want, about what I want.

So, will you journey with me? Will you join me as I share my life as authentically as I can, in the way I want? Will you find ways to do the same? I hope you’ll take a chance on me, be inspired to take agency over your life, and remember the things you love. What do you need to bring back into your life? What energizes you? Make a commitment to find a way to make it a part of your life again.

Until I’m inspired to write again,

Mika J

We all hurt

I leave #ACPA15 with a mix of emotions. I'm inspired by the #ACPANextGen students who want to begin their journey into student affairs. I am moved by the words of my colleagues who are using their voices in powerful ways. I am refreshed by deep conversations I had with real friends.

I also leave feeling hurt. I’m hurt because to me, there feels like a pressure to choose. To choose whose lives matter more. I’m hurt because I thought our field was past the point of creating a hierarchy of oppression. I’m hurt because I didn't realize we could only choose one group of people to care about and advocate for. I am hurt because my blackness has been on trial since as long as I can remember. I am hurt because my blackness seems to still be on trial with people who are supposed to care. I am hurt.

I am hurt because being happy that a black man, Stephen, had the opportunity to be one of the people to close convention somehow means I don’t care about trans* identified and gender non-confirming individuals, which is not true. I care about the trans* identified and gender non-confirming individuals of ACPA and was moved by their open letter to ACPA leadership. Before reading it, I was naively unaware of their feelings and concerns. That is my mishap for not knowing and I will do better. That letter opened my eyes and I see you. Thank you for the courage to speak up. When one hurts, we all hurt.

I hurt because there is a part of me who feels guilty for being relieved that finally a black man would get on stage and defy negative stereotypes that have plagued black men forever. Finally black men would not be seen as scary, uneducated and unworthy, but as inspiring, passionate and knowledgeable. My dear friend Stephen did that and so much more. He stood for more than himself. He stood for so many whose voices are silenced. He stood for so many who will never get the chance to do so. Stephen did and said what no celebrity could ever do.

I'm hurt because I feel like I have to choose who gets the stage. Who says there isn't room for all of us? When will we say enough is enough? When will we say no to being made to make a choice? When will we take the time to really hear each other’s' stories? Not just do it once as a way to feel good about ourselves, but truly want to listen and engage? When will be see each other for human beings who are comprised of identities, instead of a list of identities that make us human?How do we take our individual hurts and come together and heal together? How do we try to understand our hurts and process together and not apart? We are all hurting, in different ways because of our different identities, but we all hurt. We cannot lose sight of all that still needs to be done for all groups of people. How do we commit to doing this?

As I sat in the LaGuardia airport last night with tears in my eyes, I couldn't shake the hurt and pain I felt. My heart was and still is heavy. I feel hurt because on the 50th anniversary of the Selma March, not much was said or mentioned from those that are supposed to care. I still feel the pain of what that march represented and still represents for me as a black woman. I feel pain as I watch a video from University of Oklahoma Fraternity-SAE as they sing a racist chant on a bus. I deeply hurt as I realize how much work still needs to be done.

I don't just hurt for myself, but for so many others around me. I hurt for those who also feel pain but for different reasons. I hurt because I know I'll never have to feel any of their pain nor will understand what the individuals in the T*Circle are feeling. I hurt because I know that although I don't understand their pain, I know what pain feels like and how deep it goes. I want to heal together. And there are many others who feel hurt in ways I have not mentioned. Who feel deep hurt as well. 

I want to be a part of using my voice to make progress. I will not sit back and wait for those in power, or those who are popular to do something. I'm choosing to do what I can. I am starting by reaching out to 2 people who I need to better understand their stories before making judgments while in my hurt and feelings. I have done that this morning and will reflect on who else I need to connect with to seek understanding. I also commit to moving toward the pain and hurt to understand others, instead of running from it. Lastly, I will not choose. I will not choose which marginalized groups are deserving of a seat at the table. I will not choose who matters more. I will not believe that my hurt, pain, and marginalization is more valid than those around me. I will not choose.

Instead I will fight for space for us all at the table. I will use the privilege I have to make change.  I will step away from a mindset of us versus them, and see how we can make change together. What will you commit to do? We must do better.